


sing your melody; i'll sing along

by henwens



Series: falling slowly [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Bands, Alternate Universe - Musician, Inspired by Once (Musical), M/M, POV Alternating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:27:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 25,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24617557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/henwens/pseuds/henwens
Summary: tadashi smiled back, and found he couldn’t help himself. “what d’you think?”kei’s first thought, crisp in his mind as the busker stared up at him, was that his day had sucked.his day had sucked, and for a moment, this man’s song had made him forget about that.--tadashi is a musician whose band has left him for grander things in tokyo; kei is a writer trying to find work that he can be passionate about.neither can settle until they reach something unknown to even themselves. they find each other at exactly the right moment.
Relationships: Minor or Background Relationship(s), Tsukishima Kei/Yamaguchi Tadashi
Series: falling slowly [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1900345
Comments: 18
Kudos: 101





	1. act i.

**Author's Note:**

> this is greatly inspired by one of my all-time favorite musicals, ‘once.’ all of the songs that tadashi and kei sing are references to the songs from that show. 
> 
> in this part, i have referenced the songs in this order. please listen along at your leisure!  
> -broken-hearted hoover fixer sucker guy  
> -the moon  
> -falling slowly  
> -leave  
> -falling slowly [reprise]
> 
> i love writing for these two so much and it makes me very happy to return to them. your comments are so greatly appreciated, please let me know how i’m doing here!
> 
> also, i’m sorry for naming kuroo’s band after a youtube comedy sketch from ten years ago, but i think it fits like, too well. 
> 
> enjoy!

Tadashi ran his finger down the tense guitar string, pressing in and feeling the cool bite of the wire against the pad of his fingertip. A breeze had blown in the crisp air of dusk, and the shopping district of downtown Sendai was starting to wind down for the evening. 

Few people would be bothered by his playing here, but he might still draw a small crowd. He had learned from past experiences that it was better to go acoustic—easier to pack things up and head out, if someone from a nearby shop called in a noise complaint.

He was about to start playing, the song a familiar weight on his tongue, when his phone buzzed in his pocket. Tadashi pulled it out and saw an incoming text from Hitoka.

> _We are playing in Roppongi tonight! Wish you were here!_

He read over it with a sigh, then pocketed his phone. It had only been six months since Hitoka, Hinata, and Kageyama had packed up and moved to Tokyo. His former band mates had quickly found success there, and it had not wavered.

But a small, sad part of Tadashi was still waiting for the other shoe to drop for them. Was still waiting for them to move back to Sendai—to come back for him.

Tadashi arranged his fingers to the first chord of the song and began to strum. He wouldn’t let himself think like that. He had made his choice, and they had made theirs. _Hitoka_ had chosen them over him. All that he could do now was live with that outcome.

“ _Years ago,_ ” he sang. “ _I fell in love..._ ”

The footsteps that swarmed around him hesitated as they registered the impromptu performance, stuttering to a stop. Many quickly moved on, afraid he would start begging for money, but Tadashi knew that many more stayed to hear his voice. He quirked his lips into a smile as he reached the chorus. He liked that they liked to listen. It made him feel useful. It made him feel wanted.

Tadashi let the song play out, finishing with a few tight strums, before finally looking up. 

There was a small crowd, and they applauded politely for him, and then promptly scattered, as though embarrassed to have been caught by him. Tadashi felt a light pink tinge his own cheeks. He knew he was a simple performer, and not flashy or extravagant enough to make people stay. He breathed out, readjusted his guitar in the cradle of his elbow, and began strumming again.

“ _Cut the bonds with the moon..."_

Tadashi let himself sink into the song, his mind falling back to Hitoka. Her shining face framed nicely by her blonde bob, her smiles always brightening when Hinata came bursting in with a new grand idea for progressing their music… and Tadashi, slowly fading more and more into the background. 

The worst part was, he had seen it all happening, so clearly. So when Hitoka came to him, hands shaking and tears in her eyes, he didn’t even let himself feel shock. He couldn’t even hate her, he couldn’t hate _them_. It had been his own fault for not loving her the way she deserved.

Tadashi’s voice stuttered in the chorus, and as he caught his breath, he was horrified when a tear rolled down his cheek. He lifted his hand from the neck of the guitar to brush it away, looking up to see if anyone was watching him—

And he was met with a pair of brilliantly golden eyes, shielded by glasses with dark frames. A man was gazing at him with a stern expression, and for a moment, Tadashi thought, _I’m in trouble now_.

“S-Should I move, sir?”

“What?” The man’s expression tightened, as he realized Tadashi was addressing him. “How should I know?”

“Aren’t you here to tell me off? Sometimes the businesses don’t like when I play out here, so they—”

“No, I—” The man hesitated, cleared his throat. “I was just listening.”

“O-Oh.” Tadashi stretched his fingers against the strings, feeling the gentle reverberations, too quiet to be audible. Tadashi felt himself start to blush under the man’s careful gaze, realizing also that his cheek was still wet with tears. He continued to wipe at it, and figured he should ask if the man had any song requests to distract him from the dreadful scene. “Do you—”

“Are you okay?” The man asked suddenly, and Tadashi realized he was holding out a cloth handkerchief, soft and white. As Tadashi took it, he met the man’s eyes once more, trying his best to look grateful and not combust from embarrassment.

That’s when he realized with sharp clarity that he recognized this man. His shorn blond hair and fashionable frames, his tall and confident stance— Tadashi had seen him before, watching his street performances from the sidelines. Tadashi must set up along his usual walk home from work. 

He ducked his head, doubly embarrassed now to have started crying in front of someone he sort of _knew_. 

“Oh! Thanks. It’s just… break-up songs, you know?”

When he looked up again, the man was nodding solemnly, and Tadashi was startled by the expression on his face. 

This guy didn’t look like much of a music guy at all. He was dressed nicely, dark jacket against a navy blue dress shirt, but the top buttons were undone, and there was no sign of a tie or briefcase. He was stylish, but something about him still seemed too prim and proper. 

And yet, there was some unnamed emotion that flickered across his face, his eyes watching Tadashi carefully. Maybe the man did know what it was like to feel a song so deeply that you couldn’t help but cry over it. 

“I… didn’t know people still carried these,” Tadashi said, handing the man back his handkerchief. He took it with a sharp smile, his serious expression breaking all at once. 

“It makes an impression.”

“I see,” Tadashi worried at his lower lip, and strummed out a chord anxiously. The man readjusted his stance, but did not look like he was about to leave. Tadashi leaned his head back down, thought back to where he had cut the song off, and brought his right hand down to resume strumming.

“ _S_ _hut the door to the moon, and let the birds gather…"_

By the time Tadashi finished the song and lifted his chin up, he expected the man to be gone. The square was mostly dark now, but Tadashi had his back to a streetlamp, and so he was illuminated.

And so was the man, golden eyes flickering in the light as he smiled down at Tadashi; a softer smile, cool and kind.

Tadashi smiled back, and found he couldn’t help himself. “What d’you think?”

★・・☆

Kei’s first thought, crisp in his mind as the busker stared up at him, was that his day had sucked. 

His day had sucked, and for a moment, this man’s song had made him forget about that. Kei had seen this man before, had heard his quiet performances as he passed through the busy street on his way home, his feet often stopping of their own accord so he could get a chance to listen. 

He wondered if the man recognized him. If that was why he was even asking for his opinion. 

Or, more likely, he was just being nice. Kei flushed a little as the man blinked at him curiously, dark eyelashes fluttering against skin that looked soft to touch. That was more likely. He seemed like a nice person. 

“Well?” The man said, something like a laugh catching in his throat. Kei realized he had been quiet for too long, and cleared his throat. As he contemplated what to say, the other man began to pack up his guitar, strands of dark brown hair falling into his face.

“I thought it was really sad.” 

The man’s face was half-obscured, but even in the shadows cast by the lamplight, Kei could still see a smattering of freckles, and a smile pulling tight at the corners of his mouth.

“You’re not the first to say that,” the man’s voice was still musical, even though he had long stopped singing. He stood and held out a hand. “My name is Yamaguchi Tadashi.”

“Tsukishima Kei.” Kei took his hand, and it was warm. He suddenly felt embarrassed by his own hands, cold from poor circulation and the night breeze, but Yamaguchi held it firmly. 

“Thanks for listening, Tsukishima.”

“Thanks for playing.”

Yamaguchi swung the strap of his guitar case over his shoulder, and rocked back a little with the weight of it. Kei’s hand twitched where it had fallen at his side, wanting to reach out and help. He folded his fingers into a loose fist and tucked his hands into his jacket pockets.

Yamaguchi’s song had been sad. It had made Kei reflect too long on things that shouldn’t come to light; the stress of a job he hated, a collection of papers that would never be published on his desk, and a piano left unplayed for far too long. Kei always had been a little bit of a masochist. Maybe that’s why he liked the man’s singing so much. It shone a light on all those dark corners that held what Kei never wanted to see.

“Wait,” he said suddenly, calling after Yamaguchi, who had just begun to walk away. The man turned back to him, hand curled loosely over the strap at his shoulder, his expression curious and lovely. 

“I write about music,” Kei said, his mouth curling around the half-truth. He wrote about music as a hobby, and what could he really do with that? “Could I walk with you for a while?”

Yamaguchi was posed thoughtfully, head held to the side as though he were studying Kei. Kei pulled his hands from his pockets in an almost-shrug, as though showing he didn’t know why he was asking either, and then found himself smirking at his own actions. He saw Yamaguchi’s eyes fall to his mouth, and flick back up to meet his gaze. 

“Okay,” Yamaguchi said after a moment, his smile soft around the edges. “But I’m going this way.”

Kei returned his hands to his pockets and jogged to cross the short distance between them. “So,” he started. “When did you first pick up the guitar?”

“In middle school, but I didn’t get really into it until I joined this club in high school…”

As they strolled together through the quiet streets of Sendai, Kei slowed his strides to match Yamaguchi’s, and asked a few more inane questions. He learned that Yamaguchi also played the violin, and played open mic nights at a cafe that Kei had actually visited before. 

Before long, they had reached the more residential area of the city, where the apartments were stacked together in neat rows. Kei grew quiet as he realized they were actually approaching his apartment, and he would have to part from this strange encounter sooner than he had anticipated.

He wanted to know so much more. He wanted to ask for Yamaguchi’s number. 

Kei rubbed the back of his neck where his nerves were prickling with sparks of anxiety. If only he were better at this sort of thing.

“Can interviews go both ways?” Yamaguchi asked suddenly. Kei found himself nodding stiffly. “What made you interested in music?”

Kei slid his gaze over, and saw Yamaguchi squirm a little. He was glad he was not the only one uncomfortable here. 

“My brother was in a band.” 

He wasn’t sure what the next question would be. It wasn’t often that he talked about Akiteru, but he wouldn’t mind telling Yamaguchi his story. 

Yamaguchi was quiet though, seemingly lost in thought, and Kei let his footsteps fall still as they came to the door to his building. 

“This is me,” he said, and Yamaguchi readjusted his guitar on his shoulder and quirked an eyebrow. 

“Really?” He asked, and Kei huffed out a laugh that sounded like a scoff, harsh to his own ears. 

Yamaguchi took it in stride, a smile etched across his face. “Only, I live a block down. You can practically see it from here. We’re neighbors!”

Kei’s heart did something uncomfortable in his chest. “Cool,” he said, in lieu of anything that actually carried meaning. 

“Anyway, thanks,” Yamaguchi said, as though Kei hadn’t been stumbling socially through the past half hour. “It was nice… I liked being asked questions, like my answers mattered.”

“They do matter,” Kei said, motioning over his shoulder towards the door. “I can show you. I write articles about local bands, and submit them to papers. I could even make it official and pull out a recorder, if you’d want to continue our conversation inside.”

Yamaguchi blinked owlishly at him, and Kei realized he was essentially inviting a perfect stranger into his apartment, even as night had long settled around them. He could have bitten his own tongue off— but he couldn’t retract his offer, either. Not with Yamaguchi studying him like that, gauging how truthful he was. Looking at Kei like he was really someone important. 

Kei liked being looked at like that.

“Now?” Was all that Yamaguchi said, and Kei simply nodded in return.

Yamaguchi stood on the stoop beside him as Kei punched in the door code. Before they could step inside, he leaned in even closer, and Kei found his heart racing as Yamaguchi’s eyes sparkled cleverly, twirling his phone in his hand.

“Just so you know,” he said. “I’ve texted my friends your name.”

Kei pushed open the door to the stairwell, bright fluorescents lighting their way to his apartment, and bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from bursting out into laughter. “I plan to do the very same.”

☆・・★

When Tsukishima opened the door to his apartment, Tadashi was met with a flush feeling of warmth. The lights had been turned on, and there were plants and papers on most of the surfaces. It might have felt cluttered, but the floor was clear and the piles were arranged tidily. Tadashi removed his shoes and rested his guitar against the wall near the door, and made his way to the living room. Tsukishima headed for the kitchen and began to bustle around in there. 

Tadashi ran a hand along a pile of papers on the coffee table, sinking into the leather couch. 

“I’ll admit, I had thought you were making it up,” Tadashi said, turning over a paper and studying it. The page contained notes on a local band that Tadashi had seen before. They ran in similar circles, but he had never actually met them. Still, he had respected their rebellious genre-clashing performances, and their admittedly goofy name. 

“What would you have done if I had been faking?” Tsukishima called from over the refrigerator door.

“I don’t really know. Maybe make a run for it. Maybe not… my ex is always encouraging me to meet new people. ” Tadashi felt the laugh flutter in his chest again as he observed Tsukishima’s raised eyebrow. What had seemed like guarded expressions were actually quite easy to read.

“The one from the song?”

“Not really.” Tadashi reached out to take the drink Tsukishima was offering to him. His fingers brushed against the other man’s hand, and they both pulled away quickly enough to be noticeable. “Maybe a little.”

‘What inspires you to write?” Tsukishima had picked up a slim recorder from the coffee table and waved it gently as he sat opposite of him, a silent question aimed at Tadashi. He nodded, and with a press of a button, a quiet electronic _whir_ filled the room. 

“I don’t really know. I used to write with my band… fun songs, with a story. But now I just kind of write what I feel. What inspires you?”

Tsukishima tapped a slender finger against the recorder. “Honestly, it’s just a hobby. You’re really the first… the first person I’m interviewing like this. I usually just talk to friends, friends of friends. But I like writing about music. I like having it make sense.”

Tadashi smiled. “I understand. I like playing, and performing. My band wanted to make it into something bigger, and I didn’t.”

“You’re good, though,” Tsukishima said, and his eyes were cool even in the warm light of the apartment. Tadashi shrunk a little under his studious gaze. 

“Thanks. I can be content with that.” 

A muscle clenched in Tsukishima’s jaw. Feeling a little awkward in the silence, Tadashi glanced around the apartment, his eyes falling on a sleek black upright piano. It was an unusual sight in a small apartment like this one. 

“Another hobby?” He asked, standing to get a closer look at it. 

“It… it was my brother’s.”

“You mentioned him before. He was in a band? Would I know them?”

“I don’t think so. They gave it a go, but never made it big time.” Tsukishima had moved to stand near him, and now rested a hand on top of the piano’s dark surface. “Akiteru gave piano lessons for a while, but I didn’t realize it was just to get enough money to move abroad with the band and try for the international studios. One day I just came back to my apartment to find this, and a note saying that he’d gone.” 

“It’s hard to resist the spotlight,” Tadashi said softly. Tsukishima was not looking at him. His gaze rested firmly on the piano. “Do you play?”

“Yeah,” Tsukishima said in a fragile voice. 

Tadashi could feel the missing piece dangling in the air right in front of him, but didn’t know where it might fit. 

“Would you play something for me?”

Everything he had learned about this man and his personality tonight led Tadashi to expect a soft but firm “no.”

He did not expect Tsukishima to pull a chair over to the piano and rest slender fingers against the black and white keys. Without looking at Tadashi, he began to tap out a few quick notes. 

“It’s really out of tune,” Tsukishima said, but he seemed to be speaking more to himself. 

“That doesn’t matter,” Tadashi said, unsure if Tsukishima was even listening to him. But the man turned to look up at him with a smile, and it was as golden as the one Tadashi had seen earlier this night, under the light of a streetlamp. 

The first notes of the piano hit like rain on a window, sharp and sudden. But then, they started to slide together easily, as Tsukishima’s fingers remembered the pattern. Tadashi was leaning an elbow against the top of the piano, and he could feel the vibrations shoot right for his heart. He studied Tsukishima, fair and lean, but sharp in the light; shadows caught in angles as he gazed down at the keys and his own fingers dancing over them. 

Tadashi thought he was beautiful. 

“You’re good,” was what he said, when Tsukishima slowed to a stop and leaned back from the keys.

“I still think I’ll leave it to the professionals,” he said, casting a sly glance at Tadashi. 

Tadashi bit his lip and leaned back on his heels, rocking away from the piano, from Tsukishima, from a dangerous situation. 

“Listen,” he said, because he was a coward, but still wanted to give this a chance. “I’m playing tomorrow night at a cafe nearby. Would you want to swing by? Maybe we can continue our interview?”

Tsukishima looked like he was pleasantly surprised and trying not to give it away. 

“There will be an article, I promise,” was all he said in return. 

The laughter escaped from Tadashi’s chest this time, sudden and loud. It felt really, really good. “I’m looking forward to reading it.”

★・・☆

“Hey, hey, hey,” Bokuto slung his arm heavily over Kei’s shoulders, knocking him a little off balance. He elbowed the man in the stomach, inducing a soft wheeze, before locking eyes with Kuroo, who stood directly in his way. 

“Well, this is a surprise,” Kuroo said, his low voice like a purr. The effect was one of the reasons his singing had skyrocketed his band to underground popularity. Kei could only roll his eyes and tap a hand against the other man’s chest, nudging him out of the way of the entrance. 

The cafe was packed, but he saw a dollop of dark hair ringed with blonde at a table not far from the makeshift stage. Kei made his way over and sat down on the rickety stool next to Kozume. 

Kozume had a laptop open and was clearly trying to do work rather than give his attention over to the open mic that was about to start, but Kei still thought it was nice that he was here. It wasn’t often that he got to see the quiet computer programmer, but he was always grateful for his presence when faced with the obnoxious might of the even more obnoxiously named band. 

Kei was still unsure how the third member of Owls Turning People to Cats had allowed that name to pass the drafting stage, but he didn’t want to think too much on exactly how Bokuto had persuaded him.

“Is Akaashi coming?” He asked, as Kuroo and Bokuto slunk through the crowd to join their table.

“We’re not performing tonight,” Bokuto said with a pout painted on his lips. “Keiji is sick.” 

“Which is why it’s such a surprise to see you here,” Kuroo said, his eyebrow raised as he curled into a spot near Kozume, who shifted slightly into his presence. “I don’t remember texting you.”

“This is a coincidence,” Kei said, and he willed his heartbeat to still, trying not to feel caught out. “Someone else invited me.”

Bokuto’s curious roar and Kuroo’s clever smirk nearly drove him to find a new table. He glanced over at Kozume for relief, but was met with a raised eyebrow that showed even he was interested in the story. 

He tried not to obviously duck his head away from the attention, instead turning his eyes to the performance area. The first performers were setting up, one with dark hair and glasses and the other a bad dye job he looked too old for. Both men had guitars and were adjusting their mics.

“A performer?” Kozume asked, taking note of his glance. 

“Oh,” Kuroo said, elongating the syllable as he leaned closer to Kei and right over Kozume’s work. “Anyone we’d know?”

Kei chewed his lip as he debated telling them, but found that he was curious to know if their circles had overlapped. “His name is Yamaguchi Tadashi.”

Both Kuroo and Bokuto frowned at this, and said that the name was unfamiliar to them. Kei shrugged as the first act started to play a set of crooning ballads. Their table sat and listened politely, though Kuroo and Bokuto kept casting glances at him as Kei’s mind raced with anticipation. 

Yamaguchi was the third performer of the night. Kei’s eyes were on him the moment he walked out into the small area, guitar slung over his shoulder and his dark hair falling in his face. 

Yamaguchi adjusted the mic tentatively, shifted his guitar strap, and strummed out a few anxious notes to check his tuning. Kei wasn’t sure if Yamaguchi truly was nervous, or if Kei was projecting his own feelings onto the man. When Yamaguchi raised his eyes to study the crowd, he scanned until his eyes caught on Kei. A smile flickered over his face, freckles shadowed in the soft light directed at him, and he leaned forward. 

“My name is Yamaguchi Tadashi,” he spoke into the mic, his voice crystalline even through the static. “I’m here to play a few songs for you. Thanks for listening.”

“Is that him?” Bokuto whispered at the lowest volume he had, which still sounded far too loud and obvious in Kei’s ears. Kei avoided his gaze and tuned his attention to Yamaguchi and Yamaguchi only. 

“ _I don’t know you_ ,” Yamaguchi sang, “ _But I want you, all the more for that…"_

Yamaguchi’s voice was just loud enough to carry throughout the still air of the cafe, embedding itself coolly into Kei’s heart. His nerves thrummed under his skin, a drum beat that echoed loudly in his ears whenever Yamaguchi’s eyes reached him. 

“ _F_ _alling slowly, eyes that know me, and I can’t go back…_ ”

There was a soft nudge in Kei’s ribs, and he looked over to see Kuroo reaching around Kozume to poke at him. 

“I know him,” he said, and as Yamaguchi ended the song with a few fervent strums before reaching for a glass of water, Kei leaned over to hear what Kuroo had to say. Kozume edged back in his seat with a frustrated huff.

“You do?”

“I recognize him too,” Bokuto said, voice teetering back on the edge of _too loud_. “Isn’t he from Kogarasu?”

“Kogarasu?”

“We played some shows with them,” Kuroo said, nodding thoughtfully. “They had this crazy good drummer, and a female vocalist. He sang too,” Kuroo said, gesturing to Yamaguchi who was readjusting his stance to sing again. “They were good.”

“What happened to them?”

“ _I_ _can’t wait forever,”_ Yamaguchi’s voice rang out once more, and Kei waited for their eyes to lock once more. “ _Was all that you said…_ ”

“They don’t play shows anymore. We haven’t seen them for months. I guess they broke up.”

Bokuto let out a quiet whine of pity, and Kei saw Kuroo knock a fist against his shoulder, a sign of solidarity, a signal of _I won’t let that happen to us_.

“ _And you won’t disappoint me, I can do that myself_.”

Yamaguchi wasn’t looking up. He wasn’t looking at Kei. His eyes were fixed on some faraway spot on the floor, his expression crestfallen. 

“ _Now if you don’t mind, leave. Leave, and free yourself at the same time._ ”

Yamaguchi’s voice broke with emotion, but his hands were firm in their rhythm as he strummed out the notes, carrying the song out of his chest and across the room. His words rose to a crescendo and he started to bring his gaze up, finally locking eyes with Kei, turning his sunken expression into a heartbreaking smile as he ended the song. 

A roar of applause broke out among the audience, but Kei’s hands rested on his elbows, curled tightly as he held his arms over his chest. 

Yamaguchi did look strong, and beautiful, and worthy of praise. 

But Kei thought he also looked really lonely, a solo performer under a spotlight that he used to share with others. 

“He’s good,” Kozume said, his voice almost lost in the bustle of the crowd as Yamaguchi slid out into the back area so the next performer could come out. 

“He is,” Kei said, and he flashed a smile at his table. “I’ll see you guys later.” 

Kei grabbed his things and began to push through the crowd in the direction Yamaguchi had left. 

☆・・★

“Great set, kid,” Shimada said, tapping Tadashi lightly on the shoulder as he passed. 

“You too,” he replied back, glancing between the older man and his companion, Takinoue. Shimada had been really kind to Tadashi since he had started attending these open mics, helping him choose the best locations and giving him advice on setlists. The small and cramped atmosphere of nightly cafe performances was a little nerve-wracking, even though Tadashi had performed in clubs and bars with actual stage set-ups. 

But that had been with his band. Alone, the spotlight made Tadashi’s heart race uncomfortably fast. 

He slid past the older men to a door in the back of the cafe, which led to the stairwell the employees walked trash through. A few of the performers used the empty space to practice in, as the acoustics were hidden from the main area. When he opened the door, though, he saw he was alone. 

A chilly breeze trickled in from the alleyway door below, and Tadashi felt the beads of sweat that had gathered at his hairline cool rapidly. 

He had been slowly getting used to performing solo. And tonight, locking eyes with Tsukishima— that had made his heart race in a different way. It was sudden, and a little scary, but also something sure and sweet. Tadashi leaned against the railing at the top of the stairs and let himself smile. 

He had just released a deep breath when the door swung open suddenly. Tadashi turned, expecting to see Shimada, or a performer who wanted to practice— but instead, he came face to face with Tsukishima.

“Yamaguchi,” the man said, and Tadashi nodded a greeting. He noticed that Tsukishima wasn’t letting the door close, and wondered if it was meant to be an escape route. Tadashi laughed, lightly. 

“You look surprised to see me,” he said. Tsukishima cleared his throat. 

“No, I was looking for you,” he returned. “I wanted to say… great show.”

“Thanks,” Tadashi said, and he let himself melt back against the railing, watching Tsukishima’s face fondly. He noticed Tsukishima’s eyes scan over him, and then, too quick Tadashi almost didn’t spot it, his throat bobbed and his tongue darted over his lower lip. 

“You looked good out there,” Tsukishima continued, and Tadashi flushed red. He felt too illuminated in the warm light drifting in from the hall and the cool white fluorescent of the stairwell. He was back under the spotlight, and back under Tsukishima’s coy watch. 

“Thanks,” he said again, well aware he wasn’t contributing much to this conversation. “It’s weird. It’s different from what I’m used to.”

Tsukishima had his hip resting against the door, arms crossed over his chest. “What are you used to?”

“Not being alone, I guess. I’m okay when I'm busking, or performing with others. It’s really different when it’s just… me. You know?”

“Not really. I always hated performing; I tried everything to get out of the school play.” Tsukishima glanced away from him. “I have no problem staying away from the spotlight.”

The statement startled a laugh out of Tadashi, and Tsukishima glanced at him sharply. He waved a hand. “Sorry, Tsukki— it just sounded so familiar. I always think that’s why my band left me.”

Tsukishima’s gaze softened into something more questioning. “Left? What do you mean?”

“Well, they’re in Tokyo now, playing underground shows. They actually had one last night.”

Tadashi rubbed at his bare arm. The stairwell was growing colder. “People are starting to notice them. They could go big time. It’s what they always wanted.”

“And you didn’t want that?”

“It’s not that I didn’t want to go. Things just ended. Not _badly_ , but… they ended.”

“How?”

“Well…” For a moment, Tadashi’s mind brought him back. He saw Hitoka with tears in her eyes, Hinata watching carefully, eerily silent, and Kageyama piling bags into their van. He shook his head like he was clearing away a fog. “I was actually seeing our singer, and… well, when our drummer and bassist decided to pack up and move to Tokyo, so did she. And she decided to stop seeing me about that same time.”

“Oh,” Tsukishima said. “Well, that’s…”

“And then she started seeing the drummer.”

“I’m sorry…”

“ _And_ the bassist.”

Tsukishima’s inhale of breath was sharp. “Oh. I can see why that would be more awkward.”

Tadashi ducked his head with a bitter laugh. 

“They’re happy, the three of them. I can’t blame them… I wasn’t the best boyfriend. I’m… unsure of myself, a lot of the time. We weren’t a good match, though I still love her. I love them all. I’m just... not sure where I fit in now.”

Tadashi suddenly realized what he was saying, how pitiful he must seem to the other man. Whatever Tsukishima could have been to him, he had probably just ruined it. He twirled a strand of hair that had fallen in his face around his pointer finger.

“Anyway, thanks, Tsukki,” he said, “for listening.”

“Where did that come from?”

“I don’t know, I just mean— you didn’t have to listen, but you did. I’m glad—”

“No, I don’t mean that. You listened to me whine about my brother last night, I don’t mind at all. I mean…”

“What?”

“You keep calling me that,” Tsukishima said. “ _Tsukki_. Why?”

“Oh!” Tadashi hadn’t even realized he’d started doing that. It just felt natural. “I don’t know. I’ll stop,” he said quickly, embarrassed at it being pointed out to him. 

Tsukishima pushed away from the door jamb, holding it open with just one hand. Open in a way that seemed like a silent invitation, beckoning for Tadashi to join him back in the real world. 

“No,” he said. “Don’t worry. I like it.”

“Okay,” Tadashi said, and though his face was still burning brightly, he didn’t feel like backing down. Not from this. “I didn’t mean to keep you from your friends. Did you want to go back there?”

Tsukishima shuddered theatrically, and Yamaguchi covered his laugh with his hand. “No thanks.”

The door to the stairwell closed gently behind them. Tadashi saw that the hall was miraculously empty, and was glad that Shimada and Takinoue hadn’t been privy to their conversation, at least not all of it. 

“Where should we go then, Tsukki?”

He didn’t miss the way Tsukishima’s expression softened as he glanced at him. 

“It’s a little late for coffee. How do you feel about ice cream?”

★・・☆

It turned out that Yamaguchi’s favorite flavor of ice cream was strawberry, which made Kei like him very much. 

As if Kei didn’t already like the pattern of freckles dotted along the bridge of his nose and the curve of his cheekbones. The lyricism of his voice, even as he said the most normal things. The hitch of his breath when he sang. The cowlick of dark hair that Yamaguchi was always brushing away, or curling around his slender finger, the way he curled his fingers around the neck of his guitar. 

Kei ordered a strawberry cone, too, and immediately brought it to his mouth, trying to keep these secret thoughts from spilling out. 

The night was cool, but not cold, and so they brought their ice cream with them as they started in the direction of their neighborhood. 

“I have your song stuck in my head.”

“Which one?” Yamaguchi looked amused. 

“I’ll butcher this, but…”

Kei hummed a little, his throat dry and scratchy, but Yamaguchi caught the notes. 

“Oh!” He began to hum too, and then his lips parted and he began to sing. 

“ _Falling slowly, sing your melody, I’ll sing along…_ ”

Kei watched Yamaguchi’s face light up around the words, and slowed his pace a little. He found himself wishing time would stop whenever he was with this man. 

“Did you write it?” He asked, as Yamaguchi stopped to take another bite of ice cream. 

“I did. It was unfinished for a while, but…” Yamaguchi darted a glance over at Kei. “Not anymore.”

“I’d love to learn how to play it,” Kei said thoughtfully. Yamaguchi shrugged. 

“I wouldn’t know how it would work on piano. But I bet you could figure it out.”

They continued their walk in pleasant silence, but it wasn’t long before their conversation picked up again. They dumped their trash in a bin along the road, and Yamaguchi asked what Kei did for work, “when you’re not stalking musicians, that is.”

Kei let out an exasperated huff of laughter, and then shook his head. “I actually hate my job.”

“Really?” Yamaguchi’s eyebrows shot up. “What do you do?”

“I guess I work in advertising. I was a temp at a local firm for a while, and then they hired me to do odd jobs around the office. I get to write in my downtime, and I met some good people there, but…”

Kei sighed, thinking of the dim walls of his office cubicle, the stench of stale coffee and the burn of printer ink, the dull drone of the overhead lights.

“I never wanted an office job,” he said dully, and left it at that.

Yamaguchi took it in stride. “Me either, I guess.”

“Did you always think you’d be a musician?”

“Definitely not. It was just something fun. I actually went to university to be a teacher.”

“Really?”

“Really. But I knew Hinata and Kageyama from high school… they were the ones who were serious about Kogarasu. They wanted it to be something more.”

Yamaguchi rubbed at the back of his neck before continuing. 

“I dropped out of university in my last year to commit to the band. It’s a little embarrassing to admit, now.”

“Kogarasu…Is that your band’s name?”

“Yeah. Had I not mentioned that?”

“No.”

“Oh. Well, Hinata and Kageyama never went to university, but that just meant they got better at music. Hitoka— Yachi stayed and got her degree. Music and art theory. She was always the most talented of us.”

Yamaguchi’s smile was soft and distant; Kei tried not to feel the bite of jealousy in his heart. 

“Would you ever go back? Finish your degree?”

“And be a teacher?” Yamaguchi said this thoughtfully, like it was something he had been considering. “Maybe.” 

They were approaching Kei’s apartment now, and Yamaguchi looked up like he recognized it. He turned to Kei with a smile. 

“I like where I am right now, though.”

Kei wondered at the notion, and found he could not relate. He hummed in the back of his throat. 

“This is me,” he said. 

“I know.”

“Yama—”

All of a sudden, Yamaguchi was rocking forward to press his lips against Kei’s cheek. It was quick, too quick, but Kei’s nerves lit up like firecrackers as he struggled to remain standing. 

They both stepped away from each other. Yamaguchi’s freckles were dark over the red that dusted his cheeks. 

“Sorry, Tsukishima. I just wanted to thank you. You’re a good listener. I’ll just…”

Kei’s hand darted out without any conscious order from his brain. He just knew he couldn’t let Yamaguchi go. Not like this. 

He caught Yamaguchi’s wrist and pulled him back. 

“Yamaguchi… you don’t have to thank me. I like listening to you. I like… you.”

“Oh,” Yamaguchi’s smile was a little watery, and Kei moved his thumb over the base of his wrist, feeling his pulse flutter under the skin. “I like you too.”

“Cool,” Kei said. “That’s… cool.”

He leaned his head down, wanting to be closer, but Yamaguchi was pulling away, face bright with laughter. 

“Yes, Tsukki,” Yamaguchi was moving to brush at his eyes, and Kei released his grasp on his wrist. “It is very cool.”

Their eyes met again, but Kei knew the moment had passed. Yamaguchi promised to text Kei later, and with a cheerful wave, he turned to continue on to his apartment, guitar slung carefully over his back. 

As he watched him go, Kei’s phone buzzed in his pocket. When he pulled it out, the screen flashed too brightly in the dark of the night, and he blinked as he read the name on the incoming text... Akaashi. 

> _Good news... Tokyo interview came through._

Kei released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, and then his eyes darted to the next line.

> _By the way, who is Yamaguchi Tadashi?_


	2. act ii.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all for your patience! what i thought was going to be a two-act structure quickly turned into something much larger, so i have made this a three-chapter fic. that may go up as well since i have plans for a coda that i am pretty excited about!
> 
> the songs in this chapter are also from the amazing musical once, in this order:  
> -if you want me  
> -when your mind's made up
> 
> your comments are so appreciated! enjoy this chapter!

“Hi, Tsukki!”

Yamaguchi’s face was bright in the morning sun, and Kei was glad to see him. 

“Yamaguchi,” he said in greeting, strolling down the steps of his apartment’s entrance. He continued walking and let Yamaguchi match his pace. 

They had started to walk downtown together last week. Yamaguchi picked up odd jobs from an app on his phone during the day, and worked on his performances in the down time. Kei still wasted his hours at the design firm, and would meet up with Yamaguchi after a near-nightly performance so they could walk together again. 

This was really the only time they had for each other, besides the occasional lunch or coffee date. 

And yet, though they had met less than a month ago, this fledgling relationship was the best thing in Kei’s life right now. 

That, and the favor Akaashi had pulled for him, which still burned a hole in the back of his mind. It meant making a decision, and if he wanted things with Yamaguchi to last, it was not a decision he could make on his own. 

“Do you want to meet for coffee, later?” He asked suddenly. They were quickly approaching the turn where they would part, Kei’s firm just on the other side of the street, and he was already missing Yamaguchi’s pleasant company. 

Yamaguchi beamed at him, and Kei felt warm. 

“That sounds great!” Yamaguchi reached out to squeeze his hand, a simple gesture that fired right to Kei’s heart.

Though their relationship was progressing, so slowly it drove Kei crazy sometimes, he had practice being patient. And he could live off of those gestures, those small _more than friends_ moments, until Yamaguchi was ready.

“I’ll see you at noon,” Kei said, returning the gesture. He watched Yamaguchi’s face grow pink and knew it was mirrored on his own. 

With a final wave to Yamaguchi, he ran across the crosswalk towards the firm. When he pushed open the slim glass door, he found Akaashi standing in the lobby, his brow raised.

“I see that’s still going on.”

“That’s really creepy, Akaashi,” Kei twisted his mouth into a frown, but Akaashi just shrugged. 

“I just wanted to check up on you. You’re the one flaunting it.”

His tone was not quite disapproving, but was tinged with worry. Kei shrugged and pressed the button for the elevator with his knuckle. 

“I wouldn’t call that _flaunting_. I’ve seen you and Bokuto get up to a lot more.”

Akaashi pushed his bag further up his shoulder and turned to watch the elevator doors open. “Please don’t mention _that_.” 

Kei could still feel Akaashi’s eyes on him, and waited for the question to drop. He didn’t have to wait long. “Did you reschedule your interview?”

“I did. Thanks, again, but…” Kei worried at his lip. Akaashi had pulled strings with an acquaintance from high school to get him an interview with a magazine in Tokyo. Kei didn’t accept help lightly, but he would never have gotten this chance on his own. He had tried before.

“Your window is closing,” Akaashi said, and he was tapping a foot against the shallow metal of the elevator floor. “I know they’re okay with you rescheduling once, but I’m worried—”

“You don’t have to worry about me, you know,” Kei said coldly, but he had been friends with Akaashi long enough to know the other man wouldn’t back down easily. They had met at the temp agency after usually getting assigned to the same jobs, and though Kei didn’t make friends easily, Akaashi’s temperament had been so similar to his own that it had only drawn them closer together. 

It was through Akaashi that he had met Bokuto, and Kuroo, and Kozume. Akaashi had helped Kei settle into his life, and now he had gone out of his way to help Kei once more. Kei didn’t want to let the chance slip by. 

“I just know how you feel about your work,” Akaashi continued, as they picked up their task list for the day and began to move for the copy room. “We won’t be here forever...”

Kei knew that. Akaashi, Bokuto, and Kuroo— and Kozume, who was already commuting between Sendai and Tokyo— all had plans to move to the city within the next few months. They would start a new life there, soon. 

“And I don’t want to leave you alone.”

“I wouldn’t be alone.” Kei leaned over the copier and put his head in his hands, feeling the warmth of the machine in its electronic hum. He thought of Yamaguchi’s warm smile, spotted over with freckles.

Akaashi’s face softened. “I know. But it’s not something you can count on, not for sure. This is a good opportunity, and you should take it.”

Kei felt his glasses slip at the bridge of his nose, and adjusted them. “You’re right.”

Akaashi reached over and tousled his hair, and then resumed punching buttons on the copier. Kei smoothed over his hair and watched the papers spit out. 

Akaashi was right. He had wanted to work for a magazine, had wanted to put his work out into the world, for so long. He couldn’t do it from Sendai; he had tried. But he still had hope he could do it from Tokyo.

“I’ll go.”

“You should tell him, too,” Akaashi said. “You said that his friends are already over there. Maybe he’ll want to go with you.”

“Maybe,” Kei said, but he thought of Yamaguchi’s kind eyes, _I like where I am now_ , and a small part of him knew he had to prepare to say goodbye. 

If he hadn’t followed Kogarasu… if he hadn’t gone for them, why would he go with Kei?

“In the meantime,” Akaashi continued, taking the stack of papers from the copier and waving it in front of Kei’s face. “Please try not to get fired.” 

Kei’s nerves were crawling under his skin for the remainder of the morning, and all he could think about was telling Yamaguchi about the interview. About Tokyo. About leaving. 

Their coffee date stretched endlessly further into the future with each passing minute Kei spent glancing at the clock. When it finally came time for Kei to sign out for his lunch break, his fingers shook around the pen, scrawling his name across the paper in a scratchy mess. 

Miyagi Cafe, their usual meeting spot, was just around the corner from Kei’s work. His feet beat a quick pace to carry him there, footsteps falling loudly in time with his pounding heart. He saw Yamaguchi the moment he turned the corner, sun-speckled and shining. 

“Hi, Tsukki,” Yamaguchi called, just as he had that morning, and nearly every morning since Kei had met him. Kei had never known this was missing from his life, but he knew now he didn’t want to go without it ever again. 

“Tadashi,” he tried, and he saw Yamaguchi brighten at the name. “Should we...”

Inside the cafe, Yamaguchi would order a sweetly flavored coffee, and Kei would take his black. They would make their way to a table near the window, where the sun could still shine through and illuminate Kei’s golden eyes and Yamaguchi’s freckled skin. Yamaguchi would reach across the table, and Kei would take his hand.

They would follow a pattern they had steadily established by now. Only this time, Kei would have to tell Yamaguchi he was leaving. 

As they settled at their table, Kei felt the tension in the air. Yamaguchi did not reach out his hand, and Kei did not take it, but instead warmed his hands on his drink, steeled his nerves, and looked up to meet Yamaguchi’s eyes. He took a deep breath, and then—

“Tsukki,” Yamaguchi said. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

☆・・★

Tadashi had spent most of that morning camped under a shady tree, plucking notes carefully on his guitar. He relished the press of the string, the words on his lips. He thought of golden eyes and blond hair and a cool smile. He bent his head down and started to play. 

“ _Are you really here, or am I dreaming?”_

He had just begun to arrange the words for the chorus, making a mental note to change the progression of a few notes, when his phone started to vibrate in his pocket. He startled and looked at the caller ID. 

_Yachi_. 

“Hitoka?” He picked up, his voice tinged with worry. They hadn’t spoken except over text for quite a while. “Is everything okay?”

“Of course, Tadashi!” Hitoka’s voice was sweet as spun sugar, bright and bubbly in his ear. He smiled as he remembered how much he cared for her, content that everything was alright. 

“It’s good to hear your voice,” he said with a pleased laugh. “But why are you calling?” 

“Because I have great news!” She giggled happily, and Tadashi heard other voices in the background, voices he recognized as Hinata and Kageyama. He felt his smile falter.

“Oh, yeah?”

“We got an audition!” Hinata’s sunny voice crowed from the background, and Hitoka must have covered the receiver because her voice became muffled and scolding. Tadashi leaned back against the solid trunk of the tree to process those words. 

“An audition?” He said, forgetting the phone was still against his face. 

“I was going to say,” Hitoka continued. “We got an audition, but it doesn’t feel right to take it. Not without you.” More muffled conversations. “We’ve all agreed. Will you come down and perform with us?”

“Who is it with?”

“Karasuno Records.”

Tadashi’s throat worked around a tight knot. Karasuno had been their dream forever. The label was a great match for their sound, and so many inspirational bands had come from it. Hinata and Kageyama had even crafted the band’s name around it. Tadashi flexed his fingers around the neck of his guitar. 

“I— I don’t know what to say…”

“Say you’ll come!” Hinata’s voice cried again, and Tadashi realized with a sudden lurch that he had been on speaker phone this entire time. He felt his face grow red.

“Yamaguchi,” Kageyama’s low voice came over the speaker. “We want you here.”

“It really won’t be the same without you,” Hitoka’s voice was soft and hopeful. 

“I…” Tadashi closed his eyes. “I’ll get back to you. I have to think this over, but I’ll get back to you soon.”

Tadashi heard shuffling behind the phone, and then Hitoka came on again, her voice louder and closer than before. 

“We audition in a week. I know that I messed things up, but this was your dream too. We’re not going to take it away from you. We want you to be there with us.”

Tadashi swallowed the knot, and felt his head clear. “It’s not that, Hitoka. You didn’t mess anything up, and you deserve this shot. You all do. It’s actually… I can’t just drop everything and come to Tokyo. There’s someone I’m involved with, here, and I don’t think I can just leave him.”

“Oh?” Hitoka said, and then, “ _Oh._ ”

At her sly gasp, Tadashi felt his face light up. “It’s new, but I think there’s something there. I’m really trying. I’m sorry that—”

“No, no!” She said. “I’m so happy to hear that, Tadashi! You know you can bring him with you, right? I’ll try to keep Shouyo and Tobio from giving him the third degree, but…”

“Oh, God,” Tadashi said, running a hand down his face. “I can’t imagine.” 

He paused, and then said, “I’ll find a way, Hitoka. You’re right… this was my dream. But I think this could be something really important.”

“Tadashi,” she said, and her voice shook only a little. “You don’t know how happy that makes me.”

“I’m pretty thrilled about it too,” he said, before they exchanged their goodbyes. He had a date to keep. 

He zipped his guitar into its case and hurried over to their usual spot. Miyagi Cafe was not too far from the design firm, but Tadashi made it there first. He folded his arms over his chest, smiling as the sun soaked into his skin, and let himself feel optimistic about the future for the first time in a long time. When he looked over again, he saw Tsukishima hurrying to his side. 

“Hi, Tsukki,” he said, the name a comfortable weight on his tongue.

“Tadashi,” Tsukishima said, and Tadashi’s heart fluttered at the sound. 

They made their way into the cafe, got their usual orders, and found their usual seat. The nerves hit Tadashi, then, like running into a brick wall, and he took a deep breath. 

“Tsukki,” he said. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

Tsukishima blinked owlishly at him, his mouth falling open into a nicely shaped, _Oh?_

“I got a call from Yachi today,” he said. “You know, my—”

“I know,” Tsukishima said, his voice a little too tight. “I mean, what did she say?”

“Kogarasu got an audition with a really, really good record label. This is a big opportunity. It’s a _dream_ opportunity.” Tadashi took a sip of his latte, hoping it might calm his nerves. “They asked me to come to Tokyo for the audition.”

He waited for Tsukishima’s response, but was surprised when nothing came. He raised his eyes to meet Tsukishima’s, and found him smiling. 

“It’s a good thing, right?” He asked, suddenly unsure.

“Yamaguchi,” Tsukishima was shaking his head. “It’s a very good thing. I’m happy for you.”

“Oh,” Tadashi felt his heart flutter in his chest. “Right. Thanks.”

“I actually…” Tsukishima bit into his lower lip, and Tadashi felt his tongue run over his own, an unconscious action. “There’s something I needed to tell you too. I got an interview a little while ago, and was putting it off… it’s in Tokyo. I wasn’t sure if I was ready to take it. But I decided this morning that I couldn’t pass the opportunity up.”

Tadashi felt his brain stutter over that statement. An interview… in Tokyo… he realized with a start what that meant. Tsukishima had been preparing to leave Sendai. Tsukishima had been preparing to leave _him_.

“Oh,” Tadashi said, tightening his grip on his coffee cup. “I’m… this is good, then. I guess I’ll just… I’ll probably see you around.”

“Yamaguchi,” Tsukishima started, but Tadashi could barely hear him over the buzzing of nerves in his brain. 

“I hope you do well and everything. Good luck—”

“ _Tadashi_ ,” Tsukishima had reached across the table to take one of Tadashi’s hands. Tadashi felt his grip tighten, cool and comforting, and let himself see Tsukishima clearly. 

Tsukishima was smiling, and it was soft and bright on his face, a beacon of relief that cut through Tadashi’s center. 

“I was going to say,” Tsukishima continued. “That we should go into Tokyo together. I can schedule my interview around your audition. We could go together.”

“Together?” Tadashi blinked. The word rattled in his head and then melted into his heart. “Oh. I like that idea.”

Tsukishima laughed. Tadashi liked the sound of it. “We can do this, Yamaguchi. I don’t want to give this up.”

Tadashi nodded. “Yeah. Me too.”

When they finally left the coffee shop, Tsukishima pressed a kiss to Tadashi’s lips, and he let himself fall into it, a soft and safe warmth. Distantly, he felt something break under the surface, spreading its tendrils and settling into a new home in his chest. He wasn’t sure he could name it out loud, but he was glad to let himself feel it in that moment. 

He thought it felt a little like love. 

★・・☆

Kei held his pass tightly in his fingers, trying to quell the unnerved feeling that Yamaguchi wasn’t going to show up. 

They had agreed to meet at the _shinkansen_ station separately, even though they could have commuted together from their neighborhood. Now, Kei was regretting that decision. 

He checked his watch once more.

“Tsukki!” Yamaguchi’s voice cried out behind him, and he turned. Yamaguchi was laden with his guitar case and a sizable overnight bag, red in the face and puffing out quick breaths. 

“I’m sorry!” He said, when he was a little closer to Kei. Kei took his bag from him and waited for him to catch his breath. “I accepted a job this morning and ended up in a totally different part of town than I was expecting, so it took me longer to get here! I hope you weren’t waiting long!”

“No, I—” _I was just worried you had decided it wasn’t worth it. Worried you had decided_ I _wasn’t worth it_. “It’s fine.”

“Are you ready?” Yamaguchi said, taking his bag back from Kei and smiling widely. Kei nodded, because he was afraid of what he would say if he opened his mouth. 

He let Yamaguchi choose their seats, watching as Yamaguchi scanned the aisles carefully and eventually slid into a window seat. 

The early afternoon sun filtered through the thick pane of the train, casting a soft glow around them. Kei tucked his bag under his seat and pressed back into the cushions. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes as the train lurched forward and then propelled down the track, heading for Tokyo. 

“Nervous, Tsukki?”

Kei’s eyes fluttered open and he glanced at Yamaguchi’s face, a sly smile resting there. 

“Not really…” Kei was not nervous for the interview. He was actually nervous about the stretch of time he’d be sharing with Yamaguchi. It would be the longest they’d ever been together. 

He didn’t like to harbor negative thoughts, but he knew his personality wasn’t the best. He wondered if it had been his best idea, to submit Yamaguchi to that for so long, and so early into their relationship. 

“Wow,” Yamaguchi said with a laugh. He pressed a hand over his chest. “I think I’ll probably have a heart attack before I even get to audition for Karasuno.”

Kei reached his hand out, and Yamaguchi took it gladly. He ran his thumb over the soft edge of Yamaguchi’s palm. 

“What is it about Karasuno?”

“There was this band we all listened to in high school… The Little Giants. Ever heard of them?”

Kei thought the name sounded familiar, and he was sure Akiteru must have had an album or two of theirs. He nodded. 

“Well, we all liked their music, but Hinata especially was obsessed. Their lead singer came from a small town, like ours. I think it really gave him hope that we could make it one day. For Karasuno to recognize that in Kogarasu… for them to see the same spark they must have seen in The Little Giants… it would be kind of miraculous.”

“I don’t know about your band,” Kei said. “But I’ve seen how hard you work. I don’t think it would be a miracle at all.”

Yamaguchi smiled, the crest of his cheeks coloring. “Anyway, what’s this interview for? You didn’t really tell me.”

Kei explained that Akaashi had phoned in a favor with a random acquaintance at a music magazine. He detailed how many submissions he had sent in to various magazines in Sendai and the surrounding area, and how difficult it had been to ever get feedback from them. 

“I know there’s a chance it could be even harder in Tokyo,” he said, feeling Yamaguchi’s other hand come to rest against his. “But I don’t want to let myself think that way. This is a new option for me, and I’m really grateful for it.”

“That’s a nice perspective to have,” Yamaguchi said. “You’re good at that, Tsukki.”

Kei laughed. “I didn’t used to be. I really liked writing in school, but I never thought it could be a career. I still went to school for it, but when you come out into the job field and there’s nothing for you… it’s hard not to feel like the rug has been pulled out from under you. It’s a sick joke.”

Yamaguchi made a humming noise in his throat. “So, the temp agency?”

“I thought I had to see more to find what was right for me. Then I met Akaashi, and his band, and got more into music. I’d always liked it, not only because of Akiteru, but because of what it meant for me. After seeing their first concert, I went home and wrote about everything I’d seen, and handed it to Akaashi the next day at work.”

“I bet your friends liked hearing your side.”

“Are you kidding? I tore their performance to shreds.” Kei smirked. “They really sucked back then.”

Yamaguchi bent over with his laughter, and the sound was far from musical. Kei liked it all the same. 

“Still,” he continued. “It helped me realize that writing could be more than just a hobby. I mean, I still say it is, because if things don’t work out…”

Kei thought about Akiteru, putting his whole heart into something and going nowhere. He thought about the man sitting next to him, who was going after his dream even though it frightened him. 

Suddenly, he felt Yamaguchi pull his hand away, only to bring it up to Kei’s face.

“I think everything will work out just fine,” he said, and his eyes were so open and easy that they made Kei’s heart ache.

Kei spared a cautious glance at the other passengers, but no one was paying any attention to them.

Yamaguchi’s thumb slipped over his ear as he curled his fingers at the base of Kei’s neck. The hair there prickled as Yamaguchi pressed closer. 

Yamaguchi’s lips were warm, dry and chapped from the recycled air of the train cabin, but Kei also thought they were perfect. He parted his own lips and felt Yamaguchi’s daring tongue dart forward, a soft pressure and building tension between them. 

But the angle was a little too awkward, and the space a little too public, and Kei broke away. He knew that his face was probably as red as a forest fire, burning bright and uncontrollably. 

Yamaguchi’s mouth was curved into a sly expression, a beautiful picture of smug satisfaction. 

Kei pulled back and tried to set his own expression straight. He checked the time on his phone. “We still have an hour, if you want to sleep or something,” he said, voice catching over the words. 

When he glanced back at Yamaguchi, the man’s smile had softened into something unreadable. Kei felt a spark of nerves flare in his chest, and then Yamaguchi reached out to take Kei’s arm and settle against his shoulder. 

Within minutes, Yamaguchi’s head was a comfortable weight against Kei, and his breathing had evened out enough that Kei was sure he had fallen asleep. He settled his head back against the cushion of his chair, but found that he had trouble closing his own eyes. 

He felt Yamaguchi stir a little, his hand tightening around Kei’s forearm, and took a deep breath. He focused on calming the erratic beating of his heart, worried that it would somehow wake Yamaguchi. Worried that it would give away his feelings without so much as a spoken word. 

Yamaguchi stirred a little, his hand tightening around Kei’s forearm, and Kei pressed his eyelids tightly closed. _Please don’t notice,_ he thought. _Please don’t notice how much I love you._

☆・・★

Tadashi was startled awake when their train lurched into the station. He stretched his neck and felt an uncomfortable pull, muscles sore from the awkward angle. 

“Sorry, Tsukki,” he winced, realizing that he had used the other man as a pillow for nearly the entire ride. 

“Don’t mind,” Tsukishima said, already reaching down to grab his bag from under the seat. His cheeks were a little pink, and he sounded a little breathless, and Tadashi hoped that his nerves weren’t catching up to him. 

As the other passengers disembarked, Tadashi checked his phone and saw several missed messages, all from Hitoka. He scrolled through them quickly and was able to surmise that Kogarasu would be practicing today in a small venue in Shimokita, and he should meet them there. 

Tsukishima stood up suddenly and Tadashi followed his lead, and they exited onto the clean station platform. 

“Yachi wants me to meet up with the band,” Tadashi explained, waving his phone at Tsukishima. The man nodded and readjusted his bag on his shoulder. 

“I’ll have to get changed before my interview. I sent you the reservation details, so—”

“Would you want to meet me later?” Tadashi said suddenly, and then flushed when he realized he’d interrupted. “I mean, I don’t know if I’ll be performing, but we could—”

“I’d like that,” Tsukishima replied, checking the time on his phone. “I have to go now, but I’ll see you later.”

“Right,” Tadashi said, and then with a burst of deliberate bravery, he rocked forward and kissed Tsukishima on the cheek. “Good luck.”

Tsukishima brought his hand up to his face, and Tadashi wanted to take a picture. He loved watching the emotions flicker over Tsukishima’s face before he schooled his expression back to his usual sculpted facade. He only wished he had a better read on all of them. 

Tadashi suspected that would come with time. 

They parted ways as they each had a different train to catch, taking them to different parts of the city. 

When Tadashi arrived in Shimokitazawa, he found that he remembered more of it than he expected. He traveled to Tokyo infrequently for concerts, but had not been back for quite some time. Shimokita, however, was familiar with its colorful banners and vintage stores airing their stock out on the curb. The neighborhood was populated with small cafes and live houses which performers flocked to for practice and attention.

He checked his texts for the name of the small rock house which had been Kogarasu’s designated performance space for months. 

Within moments, he was at its doors, pushing them open and stepping inside. And then, his arms were full of Hitoka Yachi.

“Tadashi!” She cried, burying her face in his shoulder, her thin arms wrapped around his back, mindful of the guitar case. 

“Hi, Hitoka,” he said, pressing his face down into her hair. She smelled good, memorable and comfortable, and he closed his eyes against the wave of emotions that came with it. 

He couldn’t help but think, as she pulled away, how different it was to be in love with Tsukishima, now. 

“Hi, Hinata,” he waved, noticing the redhead now. “Kageyama,” he nodded toward the other man, dark hair much longer than it had been months ago. Hinata, on the other hand, hadn’t changed at all.

“Yamaguchi!” Hinata cried, holding his hand up high and jumping excitedly. Tadashi laughed, and it felt good, as he smacked his palm neatly against Hinata’s. 

“How are you guys?” He asked, and Hinata took a deep breath before launching into the story of how Karasuno scouts had contacted them after their recent performance, with quite a lot of onomatopoeia thrown in. 

“That’s not what they said, idiot,” Kageyama scolded, curling an arm around Hinata like that would settle him. “They actually—”

Tadashi shook his head, surprised at himself for thinking their bickering would have slowed in these past months. He turned to catch Hitoka’s eye, and found her already watching him, a distant expression on her face. He startled and the smile slipped from his face. 

“Let’s play a set, Yamaguchi!” Hinata cried suddenly, reaching out and pulling Tadashi in the direction of the stage. During these off hours, the live house was closed apart from a few employees, who were busy with their own work. The stage was empty, but it also looked open and welcoming. Tadashi unzipped his guitar from its case and stepped onto the dark wood of the downstage. 

“Here,” Hitoka said, handing a cord to Tadashi. Their fingers brushed and she smiled at him, and with a burst of warmth in his chest, he smiled back. He plugged the amp cord into the base of his guitar and strummed a few notes. 

“Sounds good,” Kageyama said, his voice low and deep as he focused on tuning his bass. 

“Sounds _awesome_ ,” Hinata shouted from over his drum set. He released a volley of rolls on his snare, the sharp notes startling Tadashi into the realization that _this was happening_.

He was playing with his band again. He was home. 

Whatever awkwardness that still lived between them was slowly evaporating as they warmed up, notes littering the air. 

And then, Hitoka stepped up to the mic, curling her hand around it and leaning close. 

“ _I_ _f you ever want something_ ,” her voice rang out in the empty space, filling the venue with the light lilt of the song. " _Then you’ll call, and I’ll come running_.”

Tadashi fell into the notes easily, the rhythm and words the same that they had played time and time again. Hinata kicked up his strokes in the background, and Kageyama’s low bass beat was steady as well. 

“ _When your mind’s made up_ ,” Tadashi joined Hitoka on the chorus. “ _When your mind’s made up_.”

“ _There’s no point trying to change it_ ,” Hitoka sang alone, swaying her body to meet Tadashi’s eyes. He strummed the notes out loud and fast, and tried not to let the chorus stick in his throat as his voice rejoined hers. 

The song ended sooner than Tadashi would have liked, but with no more than an exchange of glances, they pushed through to the next one. They rounded out their list with the songs they were comfortable with, the songs they’d played together for years. 

Tadashi’s hands never slipped over the notes. He knew it all by heart. 

“Tadashi,” Hitoka said when they had finally exhausted themselves. A bead of sweat dripped from her hairline and rolled down her cheek, and his fingers itched to wipe it away. He glanced over at Kageyama and Hinata, and saw that they were packing up their instruments not too far from them. He wondered if they were intentionally giving Hitoka and him some space, or if they were even aware of their actions. 

“Thank you,” she continued, and he shook his head. 

“No,” he said. “Thank you. It was stupid of me not to reach out… I know you guys don’t really need me, since Kageyama can play my parts, but… I know now that I needed this. Even if I wasn’t ready to admit it to myself.”

“You’re wrong,” Hitoka said. “You’re irreplaceable, really. We wouldn’t have gone to Karasuno without you. I only wish that I hadn’t messed everything up—”

Tadashi did reach out, then, and took her hands in his. “You didn’t. Hitoka, _really_ , you didn’t. I love you, but I also love Shouyou and Tobio. You guys are my family. I’m really amazed that we went on for as long as we did.”

He blushed, and released her hands to rub awkwardly at his neck. “I’m really glad you found something more with them. I didn’t… I didn’t realize what was missing with us, until now.”

He read the surprise on Hitoka’s face. “Because you found it, Tadashi?”

Tadashi nodded, avoiding her gaze. “I found it, Hitoka.”

The breath was knocked out of him in the next minute, as Hitoka threw herself at him, trusting entirely that he could catch her. He did— he always would.

“Are we hugging?” Hinata’s voice cried, and Tadashi laughed as Hinata wormed his way into their embrace, his small body vibrating with warmth and excitement. He wasn’t even surprised when Kageyama threw a heavy arm around them and tucked his head over Hinata’s. 

Tadashi wrapped his arms around Hitoka and let his eyes drift closed, overwhelmed by how happy he was. 

“Excuse me,” a voice rang out, and Tadashi broke away to see a nervous looking employee staring up at them. “We’re going to have to clear the stage for the performances tonight.”

“Oh,” Hitoka giggled. “Right.”

Tadashi turned his gaze to the doors and the people who were slowly starting to filter through to prepare for the night. He suddenly realized just how much time had passed, and his heartbeat quickened as he recognized a flash of blond moving behind the crowd. 

“Guys,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”

★・・☆

Kei saw Yamaguchi before Yamaguchi saw him. He was standing on the darkly lit stage, next to a woman with brilliant blonde hair, cut into a neat bob. A redhead and a man with dark hair stood not too far from them, and Kei wondered if they were the drummer and the bassist, the ones responsible for Yamaguchi’s breakup. He worked his throat and debated whether to pick a fight with them or thank them. 

He couldn’t work up the nerve to head over there, though, and instead waited against the back wall until Yamaguchi looked his way. 

He didn’t have to wait long, as suddenly, Yamaguchi was hopping off the stage and heading his way. 

“Hey,” he said, his arms folded awkwardly in front of him. Yamaguchi met his eyes and smiled. 

“Hey, Tsukki. How did it go?”

Kei had been hoping he wouldn’t ask, but of course, with Yamaguchi being so thoughtful, there was no hope. “It went okay. I’m not sure if it’s exactly the right fit, but it would be a start.”

Yamaguchi reached out and squeezed his arm reassuringly. “When will you hear back from them?”

“I was the last interview, so I’ll hear from them tomorrow. They wanted to decide quickly.”

“Well, that’s good,” Yamaguchi was nodding thoughtfully. “Turns out, Kogarasu isn’t playing tonight, which means I’ll get to enjoy the show with you!”

He paused and observed Kei’s expression. Kei knew then he must look a little upset, and he tried not to reveal too much. 

The interview hadn’t gone _badly_ , but something wasn’t sitting right with Kei. He was trying to tell himself that any door into that world was a good opportunity, and he should take it. But something deep inside him itched uncomfortably, an anxious twist that was crying, _if you even get it_. 

“Unless you’re too tired,” Yamaguchi was saying, and Kei shook himself back into reality. 

“No,” he said. “I want to be here. With you,” he added, and he leaned in to press a kiss to Yamaguchi’s forehead. Yamaguchi beamed happily and took his arm. 

The lights of the venue continued to grow dimmer, and as more and more people filled the open floor space, Yamaguchi pressed more firmly into his side. Tinny music began to play over the speakers of the live house, but Yamaguchi explained that that was just to warm up the crowd, as the bands would still be warming up backstage. 

“I’m going to go get us something to drink, Tsukki!” Yamaguchi called in his ear. Kei nodded and pressed his back against the wall once more, trying not to get lost in the push of the crowd. He watched Yamaguchi make his way through it easily, until he lost sight of him. 

Kei moved to adjust his glasses, when he was jostled once more. He lost his grip on the frames, and they fell to the floor. 

“Shit,” he hissed under his breath, and he bent down to find them, blearily trying to readjust his vision in the dim light of the venue. 

“Here you are,” a soft voice said from above him, tapping his shoulder. Kei looked up and saw a hazy figure reaching out, brightly lit by a spotlight above. He felt something pressed into his hands, and realizing they were his glasses, hastily returned them to his face. 

“Thanks,” he said, standing up. He realized that the figure had belonged to a young woman, _the_ woman Yamaguchi had been talking to before. _Yachi Hitoka_. 

“No worries,” she said, curling a stray piece of hair behind her ear. She waved a hand. “I have to admit, I was kind of looking for an excuse to approach you. You’re Tadashi’s friend, right?”

He nodded, crossing his arms over his chest again. “You’re his ex,” he said. 

Yachi’s face was calm, but observant. A thin smile pulled at her lips. “That’s right,” she said. “But I still love him very much. I just want to look out for him.”

Kei shrugged. “You’d be surprised. I think he’s pretty good at looking out for himself.”

“Sadly, I think you’re right." Yachi blew out a breath, and it ruffled her fringe. "He’s grown a lot, even since I last saw him. I guess I just never thought there would be a day he wasn’t in my life. These past couple of months have been really hard.”

She shook her head a little, and tilted her chin to meet his gaze. “I’m glad he has someone else to care for him now, though.” 

Kei couldn’t help it. Even as a potential rival, he kind of liked this woman. He thought it had to do with their mutual affection for a certain freckled guitarist. He decided to throw her a bone. 

“Listen,” he said. “The last thing I want to do is hurt Yamaguchi. I like him… _a lot_.”

He flushed a little under her studious gaze, and then gasped as she suddenly flung herself forward. He just barely caught her in his arms, her head hitting his sternum _hard_. 

“I’m so glad to hear that,” she said, her voice muffled by his shirt. She pulled away as suddenly as she had embraced him, and crossed her arms over her own chest. “Just so you know, I have _two_ boyfriends, so if I ever find out that you’ve hurt Tadashi…” She raised an eyebrow. “Not that I really need _their_ help.”

Kei _really_ couldn’t help it. He liked her a lot. He burst out in a dark chuckle at the exact moment Yamaguchi pushed his way through the crowd, raising his eyebrows in surprise as he took in the scene that was unfolding. 

“Hitoka!” He said. “I see you’ve met Tsukishima…”

“Yeah,” she said, her voice musical and kind. “I’ve met Tsukishima.”

Kei watched as she ruffled Yamaguchi’s hair before pushing her way back towards the stage. Yamaguchi shook his head, cowlick refusing to fix itself, and pressed a beer into Kei’s hand. 

“I hope she didn’t say anything weird,” Yamaguchi said, but before Kei could respond the band that had been quietly warming up on stage burst into song with a loud flurry of motion and sound.

Kei was used to loud performances from Owls Turning People to Cats, but this band was clearly trying to put them to shame. 

“They're signed with Karasuno!” Yamaguchi shouted in his ear, his eyes bright. “They’re called Rolling Thunder. They’re _so cool_!”

Kei watched as a small man jumped around on stage, his hair spiked up so stiffly that it hardly moved with his frantic actions. The other members consisted of a woman with a stylish blonde cut on drums, a man with a shaved head shredding guitar, and a tall bassist with his long hair pulled back plucking notes slowly and carefully.

Kei’s mind whirled as he thought about what he could write about them. Each member had a unique style, but it all flowed together, the connections just under the surface. The vocalist’s voice was loud and confident, shouting lyrics in time with the bassist’s careful notes, and the drum and guitar complimented each other without ever becoming overwhelming. 

Kei smiled, and looked over at Yamaguchi, to find him watching him. Yamaguchi smiled cleverly back at him. 

“You like them?” He asked. Kei nodded and pressed his shoulder against Yamaguchi’s, aligning himself carefully against the other man. 

“I do,” he said. 

The rest of the night bled together in a blur of deep vibrations, bright lights, and heady air. Yamaguchi stayed by his side the entire time, a comfortable presence that Kei could reach out to whenever he needed. They jumped together in time with the music as it swelled around them, Yamaguchi’s hand finding Kei’s, and Kei threading their fingers together and holding him tightly. 

By the time they left the venue, the streets were lit by lamplight, and the night air was fresh and cool compared to the humidity of the cramped live house. Kei breathed deeply, and heard Yamaguchi do the same, their hands still clasped together. 

“I’m glad you’re here,” Yamaguchi said, quietly, like he thought Kei wouldn’t hear him. Kei tilted his head and pretended he could see stars against the night sky, though the city lights burned too brightly for that. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” Kei promised them. He felt Yamaguchi’s hand pull from his, and then Yamaguchi placed his arms around Kei’s neck, and pulled them together. As Yamaguchi kissed him solidly, his mouth warm and a little bitter from the taste of beer, Kei let himself relax. 

He tried not to feel the weight of the promise settling in his heart.

☆・・★

Tadashi left the hotel room early to meet up with Hitoka and the others. He had slept well, pillowed in the soft comfort of the mattress, listening to Tsukishima’s easy breathing on the couch beside him.

Tadashi had protested, reassuring Tsukishima that they could share the bed, that nothing had to happen, but Tsukishima had pressed a gentle kiss to his lips and insisted on taking the sofa bed anyway. 

Tadashi had fussed at him for a while, but eventually he had realized that no matter how tired he was, his nerves would only keep him awake if Tsukishima was curled at his side, close enough to reach out and touch. Kogarasu’s audition loomed large in his mind, and as sleep overtook Tadashi, he was grateful that Tsukishima was trying not to overwhelm him with too much at once. 

The streets of Tokyo were already bustling, but Tadashi anxiously completed the commute to Karasuno Studios in record time. Still, as he entered the comfortably decorated lobby of the building, he saw that Kogarasu was already waiting for him. 

“Sorry, guys,” he said, suddenly feeling flustered. Hitoka waved a hand to dismiss his apology. 

“These two wouldn’t relax at all this morning,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I had to bring them here or they would wear holes in the carpet with all their pacing. They practically ran here.”

Hinata’s laughter was bold, and it filled the small space. “Sorry, Hitoka,” he said, and then he leaned in to press a kiss to her cheek. She giggled and flushed pink, and Tadashi smiled at the scene, his heart beating free and light. 

“I wish you’d let us run,” Kageyama grumbled, tapping a long finger against the neck of his bass’s cover. “Why don’t they call us up already?”

Tadashi checked the time on his phone. It was early, but not too early. “Maybe they had another audition before us.”

As soon as he said that, the elevator doors chimed and rolled open. They turned their eyes to see who was disembarking, and discovered that it _was_ another band, instruments piled high on a push cart. 

They were laughing confidently, smiles wide on their faces, and one of them jostled the tall man who walked in front. 

“You did it, Akiteru,” he called out loudly, and Tadashi’s heart froze over with shock. 

“We don’t know that yet,” the man hissed, and Tadashi _saw_ it, and couldn’t unsee it. The set of Tsukishima’s eyes, his long nose, cropped blond hair the exact same shade. 

The band was out the door before he had a moment to call out, but he wasn’t even sure he was brave enough to. Hinata grabbed his arm and tugged him in the direction of the elevators, Kageyama punching the button before the doors had a chance to close. 

“Tadashi?” Hitoka asked. “Did you know them, or something?”

“No,” Tadashi said, shaking his head. “I guess not.”

The elevator carried them up a few floors, rattling quietly. Distantly, he heard Kageyama complain that Hinata’s drumsticks were poking him in the side, and Hitoka’s scolding tone as she pleaded with them to stop bickering. 

All Tadashi could think about was Tsukishima Akiteru, back in Japan, and whether Tsukishima knew about it or not. 

When they disembarked into the main offices of Karasuno Studios, they were met with a flurry of activity. Sound studios lined the hall, and people carried instruments between them, bursts of sound exploding as doors opened and closed. 

Hinata bristled with excitement, and even Kageyama looked like he couldn’t contain his emotions. Tadashi shook off the strange encounter, knowing he would have to save his dilemma for later. He steeled his nerves and walked with Kogarasu down the hall. 

“Hey, guys!” A friendly voice called to them, and they came upon a man with silvery blond hair, a dark freckle dotted just under his eye. “My name is Sugawara Koushi. I’ll be leading your audition today. Is there anything you need before we get started?”

Tadashi had expected a lot of things from this audition, but he hadn’t anticipated feeling so _welcomed_. 

They were led to a studio at the end of the hall, performance space and mixing studio separated by a deceptively thin pane of glass. Another man was behind there, dark hair shaved close to his head. He held a stern expression as he studied the dials in front of him, but when he looked up as Sugawara tapped a silly rhythm on the glass, it softened into something much kinder. 

“That’s Daichi Sawamura,” Sugawara introduced. “We’re ready whenever you guys are!”

“Hi,” Hitoka spoke gently into the microphone. “We’re Kogarasu. We’ve come a long way, but we are so happy to be here now.”

Hinata tapped his drumsticks to sound them off, and then Kageyama’s bass beat echoed smoothly across the space. The rhythm was picked up by Hinata’s bass drum, always so carefully in tune with Kageyama’s foundation. Then, Hinata began to pick up the pace, deliberately calling attention to certain notes with alternating hits to his cymbals. 

Tadashi and Hitoka jumped in at the same time, their voices flowing together as Tadashi ran his fingers through the chords. 

Time passed slowly, like syrup, and Tadashi’s arms felt heavy as they pushed through their set list. It was a good weight, though, something comfortable that he could wrap himself in, and he knew their emotions were clinging to their actions and making everything that much more powerful. 

He could only hope their audience felt it too. 

By the time they finished, their last notes ringing loudly in their ears, Tadashi found he was afraid to lock eyes with the two men beyond the glass. Instead, he turned to smile at Kageyama, Hinata, and Hitoka. They were what mattered most to him now. 

“Thanks guys,” Sugawara’s voice rang clear over the speaker. “I can honestly say that was an impressive performance. We think your sound is a good fit for Karasuno.”

Tadashi met his eyes through the glass, then, and saw Sugawara share a smile with Daichi before he turned back towards the microphone. 

“We’ll be in touch with an offer by the end of the week.”

Hinata let out a wild roar, throwing his drumsticks high into the air. One of them fell dangerously close to Kageyama, but rather than reacting with anger, the dark-haired man pulled Hinata into a firm embrace. Hitoka clapped her hands and pulled Tadashi with her to join them. 

“We did it, you guys,” Hinata’s voice had shifted into something softer, now, and Tadashi pulled away with a gentle smile as Kageyama pressed a kiss into Hinata’s hair and Hitoka wound her arms around his neck. 

He let them have their moment, moving instead to his bag that had been placed against the wall with his guitar case. He pulled out his phone and scrolled through his recent messages, noticing that Tsukishima had contacted him. 

> _I’m near Karasuno at Shugoshin Cafe. Meet me here when you’re done?_

Tadashi fired off a quick _Be there soon!_ before returning his phone to his bag. It was only as he began to pack up his guitar that he remembered the encounter he’d had in the Karasuno lobby. 

How was he going to tell Tsukishima that he had seen his brother?


	3. act iii.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you stuck with me through this, THANK YOU. i’m not actually ready to leave this au yet, so I have plans for a coda which will hopefully build this world up more and develop some of the supporting cast. 
> 
> as always, the songs referenced in this section are from the inspirational musical 'once,' in this order:  
> -falling slowly (reprise)  
> -leave (reprise)  
> -sleeping  
> -gold 
> 
> your comments are so greatly appreciated! enjoy ♡

Kei hung up the phone with a sharp tap of his thumb, before placing it face down on the table. He threaded his fingers and stared balefully at them, squeezing his knuckles together until they faded white.

 _We’ve gone in a different direction_ … 

He’d experienced rejection before, of course he had. It was what had driven him here. A part of him had even been preparing for it all night, even as he listened to the steady pace of Yamaguchi’s breath fill the dark room. 

He had forgotten, though, how sharply it stung. 

It hadn’t been entirely his fault, right? The interviewers had been cold from the start, and he had returned their questions in kind. He wouldn’t have wanted to work for a company like that, a company that looked down on even their potential employees.

Kei grit his teeth. So he hadn’t wanted that particular job, but surely there was still something out here for him?

He pushed his hands up to rub at his eyes, before shaking the feeling off and taking a long drag of his coffee. It wasn’t as though he was about to start having a breakdown in this coffee shop. He just felt so frustrated. 

“Kei?”

Kei startled at the sound of his name. He had texted Yamaguchi just before receiving the phone call, but hadn’t realized his audition would be over so soon. He turned in his chair, and then felt his stomach drop as he locked eyes with the man standing behind him. 

“Akiteru?”

“Kei…”

Akiteru hadn’t changed at all. And then, Kei blinked, and he saw his brother as he never had. Silvery strands cut through his short blond hair, and though he still towered tall, he was also very lean. Kei stood on shaky legs. 

“You’re back?”

“I…” Akiteru surged forward and wrapped Kei in his arms. Kei’s heart jumped to his throat, and he buried his face in his brother’s shoulder. He let himself take a deep breath, realizing Akiteru smelled like their childhood home, before he pushed away. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” Akiteru said, his face twisted into an uncomfortable expression. “I’ve just come back, and Tokyo was a detour before I came back to Sendai.” 

Kei nodded, feeling off-kilter, and motioned for Akiteru to join him at the table. “Detour?”

“We just had an audition,” Akiteru’s face relaxed into a smile. “Some place called Karasuno Studios.” 

Kei felt his heartbeat skip again, and really started to worry he was having a heart attack. “How do you think you did?”

“It was really good, Kei. It’s good to be back in Japan.” Akiteru folded his hands in front of him. “We had some work in London, for a while. Got a lot of great gigs. But,” Akiteru shrugged. “I guess we all got a little homesick.”

Kei didn’t know what to say, so he said nothing. 

Akiteru took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Kei. It was really shitty of me to leave like that, but we thought we had a lead on— it didn’t end up working out, but I’m back here now, and I think we have a good chance…”

It was always like this with Akiteru, leading the charge forward with blind optimism. Kei thought of the phone call which already seemed so distant, the rejection still clawing in his chest, and felt a bitter taste in his mouth. 

“How are you able to do it?” He sighed, and Akiteru tilted his head to one side. 

“Kei?”

“It’s been years. It’s been years, and you’ve been living off little scraps of happiness and hope. How can you do it?” 

Kei bit his lip, feeling a flash of guilt, but his brother just sat back in the chair and smiled. 

“I really don’t know,” he said, a soft laugh rumbling from his chest. “But I love it. I really wouldn’t trade this life for anything. It’s been hard, and I have regrets…” 

Akiteru’s eyes hardened. “I really regret a lot of things, Kei. But I don’t regret following my dream. Even if in thirty years it still hasn’t happened for me, I’ll know I lived my life going after the only thing I ever wanted, with my whole heart.”

Kei couldn’t meet his brother’s eyes, and he glanced out the window instead. At that same moment, Yamaguchi passed by, heading for the door of the cafe.

He looked back at Akiteru, who was studying his face. “It’s hard,” his brother continued. “Don’t get me wrong. But if you find people who are willing to stick through it with you…” 

Kei turned his head in the other direction, and locked eyes with Yamaguchi, who had just walked through the door of the cafe. Yamaguchi startled as his eyes shifted between Kei and Akiteru, and Kei knew in that moment that Yamaguchi had seen his brother at the studio. 

“I’m glad you’re back,” he said, and he meant it. Akiteru reached across the table and gave Kei’s hand a brotherly squeeze. 

“Are you in Tokyo, now? It just registered with me how _weird_ it is to be seeing you here…”

“No,” Kei said. He shrugged. “But I hope to be here soon.”

“Well, I’m heading to Sendai for a little while, but then I’m getting an apartment here. Let me know if you ever need a place to stay.”

Akiteru stood, then, and placed a gentle hand on Kei’s head. “I’m not going anywhere, Kei. I’ll do my best to be here for you.”

Kei cast his gaze over to Yamaguchi, who stood awkwardly by the counter, wringing the strap of his guitar in his hands.

“Thanks, Akiteru,” he said. “I’m not alone anymore, though.”

Akiteru suddenly looked on the verge of tears, and Kei rolled his eyes. “See you later,” Kei said, nudging him in the stomach. Akiteru broke out in cheerful laughter and, with one last pat to Kei’s cheek, headed for the cafe doors. 

“Tsukki,” Yamaguchi started, rushing forward. Kei frowned and motioned for him to sit. 

“It’s fine,” he said. “Tell me, how did the audition go?”

“Really, really good,” Yamaguchi smiled, and despite the worry still etched on his face, his eyes were bright. 

“That’s good.” Kei cleared his throat, suddenly feeling choked up, and Yamaguchi took his hand across the table. 

“What did your brother say to you?”

“He’s the same as ever. He always loved giving me advice.”

“Oh? Advice about what?”

Kei hesitated for only a moment, and then he said, “I didn’t get the job.”

“You… oh, Tsukki…”

“I can try again. There are other magazines, and now that I’ve had one interview, it might be easier to get others…”

But on Kei’s tongue, the platitudes felt like lies. He realized, with a drop of his heart, that they had received very different pieces of news in the span of the same hour. He felt Yamaguchi’s hand twitch in his, and knew that Yamaguchi was realizing the same thing. 

“I’ll have to go back to Sendai,” Kei said, because he couldn’t do it any other way. “We can still keep in touch, though.”

“What? What do you mean?”

“Yamaguchi, you said your audition went well… I only assumed you’d be coming here, to be with Kogarasu.”

“No,” Yamaguchi shook his head, his mouth a firm line. “We’ll come here together. It will _happen,_ Tsukki. We can do this.”

“You can’t go back with me,” Kei frowned. “I don’t know how long this will take me. Karasuno won’t wait for you forever. Kogarasu needs you…”

“They can do this without me.” Yamaguchi waved his hand as if to dismiss all of Kei’s concerns, but his smile was distant, and Kei hated it. “Maybe I can come down for one of their studio sessions. Maybe I’ll get credit on the album.” 

“You deserve more than that.”

Yamaguchi shook his head. “Kogarasu was my life for a very long time. But this feels like a chance at something more. I don’t just want to give up on it.”

His hand was firm in Kei’s, but Kei couldn’t help but feel a little sick. He’d been so focused on his own dream falling apart, that he never realized Yamaguchi’s was getting caught in the crossfire. 

“Tadashi—”

“ _Kei_ ,” Yamaguchi said, and his voice didn’t waver. “I mean it. I wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for you, so I’m not going to leave you behind. I _know_ what it’s like when someone leaves you. I don’t want to feel that way again.”

Kei thought about Akiteru, a note left on a piano, the sudden lurch of being left behind. He ducked his head. 

“Would it really be so bad?” He asked. “If we were apart? If we just… stopped this?”

But he already knew the answer to that question. It was in the way his blood chilled in his veins, and his heart grew heavy with ice. 

“I don’t want to find out,” Yamaguchi replied. “Do you?”

“No,” Kei said, the word sharp on his tongue. “Tadashi, I promise, we’re going to be here one day. I’m not giving up.”

When he looked up, he saw Yamaguchi’s eyes were caught on something distant, something Kei couldn’t see. 

“Yeah,” he said, and though his voice was strong, Kei watched his smile falter. 

☆・・★

The train back to Sendai was spent in a discomforting silence. Tadashi had curled his hand tightly around Tsukishima’s arm, but he didn't let his head rest on his shoulder. Instead, he turned his gaze out the window. 

His phone was a heavy weight in his pocket. He hadn’t texted Hitoka yet, to explain to her that Kogarasu would need to go on without him. He wondered if this is what she had felt, leaving him behind. He worried at his lip. It would explain why her apologies had always carried so much weight. 

Tsukishima shifted, and Tadashi let his arm slip from his grasp. He folded his arms in his lap and rested his head against the cool pane of glass, closing his eyes against the quiet rumble of the train. 

“Tadashi.”

Tadashi blinked his eyes open, shaking away the groggy haze of sleep. He focused his vision on his reflection in the dark window pane, illuminated by the fluorescent lights. He saw Tsukishima’s reflection watching him. 

“We’re here?” He asked, his throat dry and scratchy. Tsukishima reached over and threaded his fingers through Tadashi’s hair. The sensation felt good, and Tadashi closed his eyes again and pushed back against his palm. 

“You fell asleep,” Tsukishima said, and Tadashi let himself smile. 

“I know, Tsukki.” 

The passengers bustled around them, departing the train quickly to get on with their night, but Tadashi was content to sit in Tsukishima’s presence for now. He didn’t want to leave just yet. 

“Let’s go home,” Tsukishima said, voice breaking through the illusion, and Tadashi thought that sounded even better. 

The subway would be closing soon, and so Tsukishima flagged a cab for them instead. The streets of Sendai were still active, but as they approached the more residential area, everything slowed, grew darker and quieter. Tadashi felt Tsukishima’s warmth against the line of his arm and leaned in close. 

They arrived at Tsukishima’s place first, and Tadashi got out alongside him, not wanting to make Tsukishima pay more for the short fare that would carry Tadashi to his own apartment. He saw Tsukishima watching him with careful, golden eyes as he got his bag from the cab just before it pulled away. 

“Tadashi,” Tsukishima said, and his voice was a little hollow in the silence of the street. 

“Yeah, Tsukki?”

“Would you want to come inside?” Tadashi felt his heart warm over at the words, and nodded. 

Though he hadn’t been to Tsukishima’s apartment often since that first night, the halls that led to his door felt familiar. Tsukishima pushed the door open and everything looked the same, felt the same, and Tadashi realized the importance the space held for him. 

“There’s something I want to show you,” Tsukishima said suddenly, as Tadashi took off his shoes, shed his jacket and bags, and placed them near the door. 

“What is it?” He asked, padding across the floor to join Tsukishima, who had stationed himself near the piano. He tapped a few notes, tentatively, and then settled onto the bench. Tadashi looked around for a place to sit, but Tsukishima took his arm and guided Tadashi to sit beside him.

“Your song,” Tsukishima started. “I never could get it out of my head.”

“I remember,” Tadashi’s mind went back to that night when they had really opened up to each other, when he had pressed in for a kiss, realizing the depth of his affection for Tsukishima. “Don’t tell me—”

“It took some time,” Tsukishima wasn’t looking at Tadashi, instead resting his gaze and his fingers on the sleek keys of the piano. “You’ll have to go easy on me.”

He stretched his fingers and pushed down into the opening notes of the song, and they filled the space between Tsukishima and Tadashi, breaking the easy stillness. 

It was familiar and unfamiliar at the same time, the punctuating notes of the piano more forceful than the cool ripple of guitar chords. And then, Tsukishima adjusted his reach and added more notes to the mix, and the flow shifted into something that clung to Tadashi’s heart. 

It was _his song_. It was a song he had started writing not long after he began busking, entranced by a man who always stopped to watch him, golden eyes and carefully guarded expression so mysterious and so beautiful. It was a song he had finished after learning that man’s name, after hearing his story, after falling in love. 

He wondered, as Tsukishima continued to blend the notes together, if the man knew that it was really _t_ _heir_ song.

He glanced at Tsukishima, wonder softening his expression, but Tsukishima was still focused on coordinating the music of the keys. And then, Tadashi watched as Tsukishima’s lips parted, and he began to sing. 

“ _Falling slowly, eyes that know me, and I can’t go back…_ ”

Tadashi’s blood thrummed in his veins, heartbeat quick under the surface of his skin. Tsukishima’s voice was practiced, cool and calm, but held a musical softness all the same. 

“ _Well you have suffered enough, and warred with yourself, it’s time that you won…”_

Tadashi felt the tears flood hotly to his eyes, his throat burning with emotion. He wiped at his face, letting out a soft huff of laughter. Then, clearing his throat, he picked up the chorus, lifting his voice alongside Tsukishima’s.

“ _Take this sinking boat, and point it home, we’ve still got time_ …”

Tsukishima glanced over at him, the corner of his mouth lifting up, and Tadashi smiled gratefully back, matching Tsukishima’s volume as the words filled the space between them.

“ _Raise your hopeful voice, you have a choice, you’ve made it now! Falling slowly, sing your melody…”_

Tsukishima leaned over to rest his head against Tadashi’s, their foreheads knocking gently together as they shared the last line.

“ _I’ll sing along._ ”

Tsukishima’s fingers slipped from the piano keys as he brought his hands to cup Tadashi’s face, thumbs sliding over the wet tracks of tears that had continued to fall silently. Tadashi let his eyes close and felt Tsukishima’s warm lips against his, opening eagerly to let him in. 

They pulled away after a moment, both needing to catch their breath. Tadashi felt the laughter bubble in his chest once more, and it must have been contagious, as Tsukishima tucked his head against Tadashi’s neck and began to laugh too, lips soft against Tadashi’s feverish skin. 

Tsukishima pressed a kiss there, too, and Tadashi brought a hand to rest at the base of Kei’s neck. 

“Thank you,” he said. He felt Tsukishima’s chest heave against his, the short puffs of breath against his throat. 

“It doesn’t begin to cover what I owe you.”

Tadashi shook his head, and let his thumb stroke over the downy hair at Tsukishima’s nape. 

“You don’t owe me anything,” Tadashi sighed. “This is my decision.”

He let Tsukishima rest his head against his shoulder for a moment, wanting to support him the way Tsukishima had always done for him. He contemplated, for a moment, how nice it felt to sing with someone, to have that someone be Tsukishima. 

And then, he let himself be consumed by the briefest flash of panic, realizing that the next time he sang, he would probably be alone. 

Tsukishima pulled away, too soon, and then pressed in for another kiss. Tadashi nipped at Tsukishima’s lip, laughing at the other man’s startled expression. 

“You have a nice singing voice,” he said, and though he truly meant it, he let his tone become teasing. 

“Oh, shut up,” Tsukishima said, rolling his eyes. Tadashi grinned, and angled his face coyly. 

“Make me, Tsukki.”

As Tsukishima grinned and pulled Tadashi toward him, Tadashi shook off any lingering feelings of doubt. With Tsukishima’s arms around him, it seemed impossible to carry any regrets. 

★・・☆

Kei was awoken the next morning by the sharp chime of his phone. He fumbled blindly for it, squinting his eyes until he caught the red of the _Decline Call_ button. He tapped it and threw his arm back over his eyes, trying to block out the hazy morning sun. 

He felt the dip of the mattress beside him, and smiled, knowing that Yamaguchi was still by his side.

They had fallen asleep together, both exhausted from travel and the weight of their conversations. Kei let his eyes slip closed once more, content to lay beside him in that moment, but the chirp of his phone sounded in his ear again. 

He made a quiet noise of discontent in the back of his throat, but he reached for the phone and his glasses, and finally adjusted his eyes to read the caller ID. _Kuroo Tetsurou_. 

“What?” He said, keeping his voice to a low whisper so he wouldn’t wake Yamaguchi as rudely as he’d been awoken. 

“Heard you were back in town.”

Kuroo’s voice held a cautious, inquiring note, and Kei knew what he wanted to hear. He picked at a loose thread on the blanket that covered his bed, shrugging even though he knew Kuroo couldn’t see him. 

“Yeah.” 

“Well…” Kuroo paused, and took the hint. “What do you say to meeting up later? We’re going to Miyagi Cafe to see some performances tonight. Want to join?”

Kei considered it, glancing over at Yamaguchi, his arms tucked under the pillow and his eyes still shut tightly. 

“I can make it. Care if I bring someone?”

“The cute guitarist?” Kuroo practically purred.

Kei rolled his eyes, got the meeting time from Kuroo, and then hung up the phone. He fell back into the pillows, turning his gaze just in time to see Yamaguchi’s eyes blink open. 

“Hey,” Kei said. “Sorry if I woke you.”

Yamaguchi smiled and shifted closer, nuzzling into Kei’s pillow. “Doesn’t matter,” he said, voice scratchy from sleep. “Who was that?”

“Kuroo.” Kei hummed. “I guess you haven’t met him yet. Everyone’s going to be at Miyagi tonight...” He felt Yamaguchi’s arm slide over his chest. “Want to come along?”

“I’d like that.” 

Yamaguchi propped himself up and Kei tilted his head, their lips meeting in a gentle kiss. Yamaguchi’s face was bright and dewy in the clear morning sun, and Kei loved him.

“There’ll be an open mic, too,” Kei said, as Yamaguchi pushed himself away to sit up. “You could perform.”

Yamaguchi paused in combing a hand through his hair. He avoided Kei’s gaze and slid off the bed. “Yeah. Maybe.”

Kei lifted himself up on his elbows, feeling a blinding flood of worry fill his chest. Yamaguchi blinked, then, and leaned back into Kei’s space, catching him in a deep kiss until Kei felt the worry slip away.

“I’d love to meet your friends. I’ll be there.” Kei felt Yamaguchi’s smile against his lips. “But I should probably head back to my apartment, now.”

“I’ll see you at seven,” Kei said, pressing what he thought would be a final kiss to Yamaguchi’s lips. Instead, Yamaguchi threaded his arms around Kei’s neck with a soft laugh, and Kei returned the embrace. The minutes slipped hazily by until, at last, Yamaguchi slipped on his shoes and headed out the door.

Kei waited for his heartbeat to find its normal rhythm before turning back to his bedroom to prepare for the day. He had asked for this day off, so he was not expected back at work yet, but Kuroo had reminded him that there were other people he needed to tell about the events of the past few days. 

Namely, Akaashi, who had already put so much effort into helping Kei. 

Kei fired off a text to him, hoping he could see him during a break. By the time Kei was out of the shower, toweling off his hair, he had a reply from Akaashi.

> _We can meet at Sakanoshita for lunch. I’ll text when I’m on my way_.

Kei sighed and dressed himself, feeling awkward and alone in the silence of his apartment. He didn’t usually have days off, and for all that he liked having a space to himself, he had become accustomed to having someone else around. Spending the night with Yamaguchi had spoiled him, too. A small part of him thought that maybe, alongside looking for a job in Tokyo, he could start looking for an apartment that would fit the two of them. 

But he was getting ahead of himself. He glanced out the window, at the quiet row of small apartments that lined his street. For now, they were both stuck here, and he had to get used to it again. 

By the time noon rolled around, Kei had worried a hole into his stomach about how his conversation with Akaashi would go. 

The moment he opened the door to Sakanoshita, he scanned the small restaurant until he found the table Akaashi was sat at. The other man smiled and waved him over, and before a word was spoken, Kei met Akaashi’s eyes and shook his head.

Akaashi’s eyes widened, and Kei felt the guilt and worry fall away, as Akaashi slammed a hand down on the table and quietly hissed, _“Fuck_ that.”

Kei curved his mouth into a smile. “Yeah. It sucked, Akaashi.”

“What happened? Tell me how I can fix this.” 

Kei shrugged. “I don’t know. They picked apart the fact that I wasn’t from Tokyo, that I hadn’t established myself in the music culture there… It was like, because I’m from here, my opinions were shit.”

Akaashi clucked his tongue. “I’m sorry,” he said, and Kei glanced up. “I didn’t realize they approached things like that. I hadn’t seen the guy in years—”

“Akaashi, it’s not your fault,” Kei said. “I really do appreciate that I even got to sit down with them. But I quickly realized that I didn’t want to work there…”

He shook his head. “Probably at the same time they realized they didn’t want me.”

Akaashi’s arms were folded tightly over his chest, his expression firm. “I’ll do some more research. There might be something else…”

“Akaashi, you don’t need to—”

“I told you before, Tsukishima, I want to help you get to Tokyo. I don’t want to leave you alone…”

“But that’s not—” Kei hesitated, realizing that Akaashi wasn’t meeting his eyes. “Akaashi?”

“Our timeline’s moved up,” Akaashi said with a sigh. “We sent in a tape for Nashonaru Studios, and they want us to come down, _soon_. Kenma’s company has already set him up with an apartment in Tokyo, and Kuroo has been itching to move in for a while now. Bokuto and I will crash there, too, until we can find something for ourselves.”

Kei rested his elbows on the table. “When are you leaving?”

“We’ll be in Tokyo by the end of the month. I put in my two-weeks this morning.” 

Akaashi looked down, still avoiding Kei’s surprised stare. “I wanted to tell you sooner, but I honestly thought the job would go through. Still I guess you won’t be alone, after all. Yamaguchi will be here, right?”

Kei cleared his throat. “Yeah.”

“Did you say he was auditioning with his band? How did that go?”

“They got an offer.”

Akaashi’s eyebrows slid up. “Oh. But he’s—”

Kei put his head into his hands. “I messed up, Akaashi. He said he would stay here with me, and I wanted to believe him, but what if I just screwed his life up entirely?”

Akaashi reached out and squeezed Kei’s forearm gently. “Hey,” he said. “That sounds like Yamaguchi made his decision. You two will work things out. And in the meantime, I’m sure there’s another place I can reach out to…”

“You’ve already helped me too much, Akaashi,” Kei said, his voice catching. He felt crushed by the weight of how kind everyone was being to him, Akaashi’s careful patience, and Yamaguchi’s sacrifice. 

“Kei,” Akaashi said, and Kei glanced up at the sound of his name. “It’s okay to let people help you. You’re not alone.”

“I know,” Kei said, and his mind flashed back to Akiteru’s hand on his head, telling his brother, _I’m not alone anymore_. He knew it was true. He had to trust that it would all be worth it, in the end, for these people to know him. For him to be loved by them. 

“Let me do this,” Akaashi said, and his smile was soft against his angular features. “Think of it as a parting gift…” Kei nodded, and returned the smile as Akaashi continued, “Until we meet again.”

☆・・★

The lights of Miyagi Cafe were dim, but Tadashi was able to make his way to the sitting area easily, iced Americano coating his hand with condensation. He scanned the area for Tsukishima, knowing that the other man was easily recognizable by his height, but took a step back when he realized he wasn’t there yet. 

His back knocked into someone and a firm palm settled against his shoulder blade. 

“Whoa,” a deep voice said. “Careful there.”

Tadashi looked back— and looked up. The man he had stepped into was tall, and his dark hair was spiked up in a way that made him look even taller. He wasn’t _so_ scary, though, Tadashi thought as he refocused his vision. Even though the man’s thin smile looked too clever by half, his eyes were kind. 

“Sorry!” Tadashi said, bending his head in apology. 

“Don’t mind,” the man said, waving a hand. Tadashi watched as his eyes widened, eyebrows moving slowly up his face. “Wait a second… Are you Yamaguchi Tadashi?”

Tadashi tilted his head, re-examining the man’s face with a fuzzy sense of recognition. He quickly ran through the stories Tsukishima had told him about his friends, and what he remembered of the Sendai music scene. Judging by this guy’s careful smirk…

“Kuroo Tetsurou?” He guessed. 

The man’s eyes lit up and he laughed. “Hey, you’re pretty good at that!”

Tadashi shrugged. “Tsukki told me this morning that you had invited him.”

He bit his lip as Kuroo’s eyes sparked dangerously with this scrap of information, and hoped that the man wouldn’t tease Tsukishima too much. 

“What’s all this?” Another man slung his arm over Kuroo’s shoulder, hair flashing brilliantly even in the dark light of the cafe. His voice was warm and loud, eyes wide as he scanned over Tadashi.

“This is… Tsukki’s friend,” Kuroo said, his smile cutting a sharp angle on his face. “Yamaguchi Tadashi. Yamaguchi, this is Bokuto Koutarou.”

“Oh!” The man blinked. “Wait… who’s Tsukki?”

“Bokuto,” another man entered the frame, tall and lean and _very_ handsome, and Tadashi blushed as he suddenly felt very small. The man jabbed a finger into Bokuto’s side, causing him to let out a harsh puff of air. Then, the dark-haired beauty turned to Tadashi, and inclined his head. “My name is Akaashi Keiji. We’re Tsukishima’s friends. It’s nice to finally meet you, Yamaguchi.”

Tadashi brushed a stray lock of hair out of his face, nodding to each of them. “It’s nice to meet you, too,” he said, knowing that his face must be bright red. He was always nervous meeting new people, and he’d really hoped Tsukishima would be here for this. 

“Let’s find a table,” Akaashi said, his arm looped casually around Bokuto’s. Tadashi nodded and moved with them, eventually settling on a tall stool near the makeshift stage and opposite Kuroo. The man watched him with dark eyes, and Tadashi swung his gaze back to the door, hoping to see Tsukishima step through at any moment. 

“Yamaguchi,” Akaashi’s silvery voice cut through the awkward silence that had enveloped them. “We’ve all seen you play here before, and I just have to say... you’re very good.”

Tadashi bowed his head, his smile pulling tightly at his cheeks. “Ah, thank you!” 

Kuroo rested his arms on the table, leaning forward. “Are you going to put your name in for tonight?”

Tadashi shrugged, feeling the dull thrum of his heartbeat up its pace. “I’m— I’m not sure yet. Are you guys?”

Bokuto laughed, so loud and so sudden that it startled Tadashi. “This isn’t really our scene.”

Kuroo and Akaashi, who sat on either side of him, simultaneously elbowed him in the ribs. Bokuto grunted, then turned to Tadashi with a frown. “No offense,” he added. 

Tadashi laughed, and it felt genuine. He smiled at each of them. “None taken. I’ve actually played in the same venue as you before, with my band. You guys are really something. My friend, Hinata, _really_ likes your drumming, Bokuto!”

Bokuto’s eyes practically sparkled. " _Really_?"

“Really,” Tadashi nodded. “And Akaashi, you are a great bassist. Kuroo, you’re incredible too. I’m okay at backup vocals, but to be lead _and_ play guitar at the same time?” 

Kuroo leaned back in his seat, his hands firm on the edge of the table. “Well,” he said, and Akaashi’s laughter was bright in the background. “I can see why Tsukishima likes you. You sure know how to flatter a guy.”

Tadashi shrugged a shoulder up, his smile lighter now. “I’m not sure if that’s all that he likes.”

The three of them burst out into laughter at this, and Tadashi felt it bubble in his chest, too, feeling the burden of performing tonight, performing _alone_ , start to lift. And then, he felt a hand on the small of his back, and turned his head back to catch Tsukishima’s golden eyes, glinting in the lights of the stage. 

“Hi, Tsukki,” he said, feeling Tsukishima’s thumb run across a knot on his spine before Tsukishima stepped away and into the seat next to him. 

“Tsukki!” Bokuto cried, and the others continued laughing. “He calls you _Tsukki_.”

“Adorable,” Kuroo purred, and Tadashi blushed as he glanced at Tsukishima again, his face pink but a pleased smile set in his face. 

“Who’s playing, tonight?” Tsukishima said, pushing the conversation to another topic. 

The others rattled off a few names, and Tadashi recognized some of them. Then, he felt their eyes fall to him again. 

“Tadashi?” Tsukishima said, and his voice held a note that was unrecognizable to Tadashi, but it went right for his heart. He smiled, but it felt hollow.

“No pressure,” Akaashi said. 

“Honestly, this night has just turned into an excuse to meet you,” Kuroo continued.

“No, no,” Tadashi said, already sliding off of the stool. “I’ll go ahead and put my name in the slot…”

He felt the eyes still on him as he cut around the corner and headed for Ukai, the genial older man who organized this night for the cafe. Ukai recognized him immediately, and started to chalk his name into an open slot before Tadashi even said anything. 

“How’s Shrimpy?” Ukai said, face wrinkling at his own humor. Tadashi knew he was referring to Hinata, who used to wreak havoc on Miyagi Cafe years ago whenever he picked up his drumsticks for an open mic. 

Tadashi felt the weight of Ukai’s expectations, but fought against it. “They’re all good. They’ve got a pretty good thing in Tokyo, now.” 

“I see,” Ukai said, and Tadashi turned away before he could see the thought form on Ukai’s face. 

_Why aren’t you with them?_

_Because_ , Tadashi headed back for the table, the quiet laughter enveloping the four there in a private world, Tadashi on the outside. _Because I made a decision, and I can’t give up now._

Tsukishima’s face was bright when he noticed Tadashi return to the table, so bright that Tadashi couldn’t meet his gaze. Instead, he studied the stage, the first act warming up, and waited for his turn, time slipping patiently by. 

“Next up,” Ukai’s voice carried its own strength; he didn’t even need a microphone. “Yamaguchi Tadashi!” 

Tadashi accepted the round of applause that exploded from the men around him, and hurried to the stage, picking up the guitar that Ukai had placed there for acts that came unprepared— like Tadashi. 

The guitar felt a little unfamiliar in his arms, but he looped the strap around his shoulder and strummed out a chord, checking the tune. 

“Hi everyone,” he said, and his voice felt too soft in his throat, too weak. He avoided looking at the table where Tsukishima and his friends sat, though unfortunately, he could still feel their presence. “I’m just going to sing one song for you tonight. It’s something that I wrote a while ago, when I was going through a hard time. Things are better now, and I want to remember that through this song.”

He ducked his head and tapped his hand against the neck of the guitar, settling into the first chord. “Thanks for listening,” he said, and then he strummed down and began to sing. 

" _I_ _can’t wait forever_ , _was all that you said,_ ” the lyrics felt awkward in his mouth, a false start from the beginning, but he pushed forward. “ _And you won’t disappoint me… I can do that myself.”_

The guitar shifted, unfamiliar in its weight, but Tadashi tried not to let it faze him. “ _Now if you don’t mind… leave. Leave, and free yourself at the same time.”_

His throat caught around the chorus, and he felt his face flush, the mistakes crawling under his skin and making him feel like a fool. It was only him, alone under the spotlight, nowhere to hide…

_“Let go of my hand, you said what you came to, now leave… Leave!”_

Tadashi felt the tears come, then, his voice catching as it lifted too high, too strong for him to stop it. The song crashed around him, his hands lifting the guitar from around his shoulders and placing it back on the stand, trying not to feel the shocked stares of the audience, the murmurs that were rising up around him. 

Instead, he fled the stage, making his way down the long hallway that led to the same set of stairs he’d found solace in before, away from staring eyes and the cold, creeping loneliness of the stage. 

“I made my decision,” he cried, shutting the door behind him and sinking onto the first stair. “I can’t go back.”

He thought of Hitoka, Hinata, Kageyama, the home he’d always had with him. He thought of the life he wanted to build with Tsukishima, the future he could have. 

He thought of a stage, filled with warmth and love, and felt it disintegrate in his mind as he was forced to stand there, alone and talentless. The regret bit at his throat, teeth sinking painfully deep. 

Tadashi had known that in making this decision, he was going to disappoint someone. He’d already left Kogarasu, but they had left him first. He thought that it would be better than leaving Tsukishima, who he loved with every part of his heart. 

He hadn’t realized that _he_ was always going to be the one left disappointed, no matter what he chose.

The hurt was overwhelming, and Tadashi held his head in his hands, trying to keep himself from falling apart even as the tears swelled in his throat. 

“Tadashi,” it was Tsukishima’s voice, breaking through the whirl of his thoughts, a golden slimmer of hope.

“ _Kei_ ,” he said, and it was too much, his throat raw and sore, and then Tsukishima’s arms were around him, pulling him close to his chest. As Tadashi tucked his head into the crook of Tsukishima’s throat, he felt the other man swallow, tightly. 

“Tadashi,” Tsukishima pressed a gentle kiss into Tadashi’s head, but Tadashi felt it still— the cold fall of tears. “It’s okay. 

A shuddering breath rocked the space between them, and Tadashi couldn’t even tell which of them it came from.

“It’s okay,” Tsukishima was saying, his voice low and rattling. “It’s okay to change your mind.”

★・・☆

As soon as Yamaguchi had stepped away from the table to put his name in, the three men all leaned in closer, bending their heads and searching Kei’s face.

“Kei,” Akaashi said finally. “He’s great.”

“He’s _awesome_ for you!” Bokuto said, his expression vibrant. Kuroo nodded. 

Kei tried not to shift uncomfortably under their watch. He had already known Yamaguchi was great; he didn’t need _their_ approval. Still, he thought it was nice that the most important people in his life were getting along. 

“By the way,” Akaashi said, “Might as well hand this over now…”

Kei reached for the small slip of paper Akaashi was holding out for him, and studied it. “Furoggusu Magazine?”

His face softened with recognition. “Akaashi—”

“Weird name, I know, but I think they could be the one. You should call for an interview. Soon.”

Kei tucked the number into his pocket. “Thanks. I’ll do that.”

“I’m guessing Akaashi told you?” Kuroo said, raising an eyebrow.

“He did.” Kei met their faces across the table, each man looking a little solemn. He smirked. “Shit, you would think you guys were moving to Timbuktu.”

“Hey, any sort of distance between friends sucks,” Kuroo said, and Kei felt a pang of guilt; Kuroo was currently in the situation he’d narrowly avoided, a long distance relationship for the past couple of months. Although Kozume was a homebody and liked to visit Sendai often, his absence was still noticeable whenever Kuroo showed up somewhere alone. 

Kei chewed his lip and wondered how Kuroo had gotten through it. He pushed his elbows onto the table and thought that one day he should ask. 

Distantly, he heard Bokuto crack a joke that sent the others into a spiral of laughter, and he quirked his own lips into a grin, playing the part well. It was then that he felt a hand on his arm, and he glanced over to see Yamaguchi return to his seat. 

“Hey,” he said, heartbeat thrumming quickly under his skin.

Yamaguchi smiled, said, “Hey, Tsukki,” and Kei knew— he was far away again. Too far for Kei to reach. 

Kei’s mind started to turn, and it did not stop even as Yamaguchi’s name came up and he headed for the stage. As Yamaguchi picked up the spare guitar on stage, Kei remembered that he had left his at Kei’s house that morning, forgotten in their rush to start the day. 

Nothing about the set-up looked any different than it had before, that first time he’d seen Yamaguchi play. But still, as Yamaguchi leaned forward to speak into the microphone, a creeping flush of _wrongness_ coated Kei’s chest. 

Yamaguchi started to sing, his voice warm and beautiful as ever, but as he switched chords Kei watched his fingers slip on the neck of the guitar. 

It was then that he knew; this _was_ different. Everything was different, now. And judging by the look on Yamaguchi’s face, his eyes downcast and hollow, Yamaguchi knew it too. 

The gnawing worry in Kei’s stomach turned to a burst of panic as Yamaguchi’s voice surged with emotion, a flash of pain darting quickly over his face as he set the guitar down and fled the stage. 

Without another glance at his friends, Kei bolted from the table to follow him, knowing exactly where he was heading. 

He heard Yamaguchi’s cry as soon as he approached the door to the stairwell. His hand faltered as he reached for the handle, and instead of opening it, he pressed his forehead to the cool frame and listened from the other side. 

“I made my decision,” Yamaguchi’s voice was pained, cold and distant from him. “I can’t go back.”

 _Back?_ Kei’s mind stuttered over the word. _He_ can’t _go back_.

He thought about singing with Yamaguchi last night, the perfect touch of his voice against Kei’s, and desperately wondered what could have gone wrong since then. Kei shifted to open the door and felt the crinkle of paper in his pocket, the number that Akaashi had handed him suddenly a lead weight. 

Kei had a dream. He wanted to write about what he was most passionate about; he wanted to experience music in all of its forms and share it with others. He wanted to promote what he loved, the _people_ he loved. 

And so far, life had done nothing but throw obstacles in his way. His dream had stuttered to a stop; not just yesterday, but _months_ ago. He wasn’t going to give up, but it certainly hadn’t been easy. It had been painful. 

With a flash of realization, he knew why Yamaguchi was in so much pain now. He had an obstacle too, standing in the way of his dream… and it was _Kei._

With a twist of his stomach, he pulled open the door, and said Yamaguchi’s name. 

Yamaguchi didn’t seem to hear him, his head cradled in his hands as he knelt on the first step of the stairs. 

_I don’t want this_ , Kei thought, _I don’t want to live like this_.

Even if it was for a short time, he couldn’t live knowing that Yamaguchi couldn’t perform as he so desperately wanted to. For all that Kei loved him, and wanted to be with him, the stage was the one place he couldn’t join Yamaguchi. And it was the place where Yamaguchi truly shined. 

He fell to his knees beside Yamaguchi, pulling him into his arms. His breath hitched as Yamaguchi tucked his head under his chin, loose curls tickling the sensitive skin there. Kei pressed his lips to the top of his head, the realization still crushing his heart.

He didn’t want to destroy this relationship. It was one of the best things to ever happen to him. 

But he knew, _he knew_ , that they would have to be apart if they ever wanted to have a chance at being together. 

The tears came, then, sharp and unbidden, falling desperately on Yamaguchi’s head. Kei tried to clear his throat, raw as it was, and just barely choked out the words. 

“It’s okay,” he said, knowing that Yamaguchi had come to this realization, even before Kei had realized anything was wrong. “It’s okay to change your mind.”

Yamaguchi shifted, curling his arms around Kei’s neck and pressing his face closer. Kei could feel his breath against the prickling heat of his throat, the curve of his lips shifting over his skin as Yamaguchi spoke. 

“ _No_.”

“Tadashi,” Kei couldn’t turn this into an argument, especially as he didn’t have the strength to exist on this side. “Let’s just go home.”

He felt Yamaguchi nod and, together, they were able to struggle to their feet. Instead of going back through the cafe, which would have been mortifying for both of them, Yamaguchi pulled him in the direction of the door to the alley below, his hand gripping Kei’s tightly. 

The alley led them to the street, the street they always walked together, leading back home. It was so familiar, but as Kei glanced around in the haze of loss, everything looked so much darker, as inky and heavy as the silence between them. 

They hit Kei’s apartment first, as they always did, and he felt Yamaguchi hesitate and pull his hand away. 

“Please,” Kei said, reaching to pull him back. “Please come inside.”

Yamaguchi nodded, the angle of the streetlights casting a long curving shadow across his throat. Kei wanted to press his lips to it, wanted to make them forget everything that needed to be said, but he knew he couldn’t do it. He pulled them both into the fluorescents of the hallway, the bright light illuminating everything. 

“Tadashi,” he began again, as the door to his apartment closed tightly behind them. As Yamaguchi took off his shoes and placed them by the door, he reached a hand out and lightly touched his guitar, as though just realizing that it had been here all along. 

Yamaguchi was still silent as he turned back to Kei, leaving Kei to fill the space. 

“I’m not going to let us go on like this,” he said, his voice firm. “You can’t play off what happened tonight. I know this can’t be what you want.”

Yamaguchi had taken a step closer, and Kei’s hand twitched at his side, wanting to reach out and pull him all the way into an embrace. 

“What I want,” Yamaguchi said, and his voice only shook a little. “What I want is _you_ , Tsukki. I don’t want to lose you.”

Kei tried to swallow, but found that he couldn’t. “I don’t want to lose you, either.”

Yamaguchi nodded. “That’s why,” he said, and he reached for Kei now, who met him gladly. “That’s why I have to stay.”

Kei breathed in, tucking his head into Yamaguchi’s hair. It was so tempting. _So_ tempting to give up the gun, to let Yamaguchi stay by his side. He thought of the promise he had made him. It wouldn’t be forever, they would be in Tokyo soon— together. What was a couple of months to Yamaguchi, who had been performing alone for so long now?

The dark train of thought vanished as Yamaguchi inhaled, wet with tears, and pulled away to meet Kei’s eyes. 

He couldn’t do it. He wouldn’t do that to Yamaguchi.

“No,” he said, watching Yamaguchi’s eyes grow wide with surprise. “We can get past this, but only if we’re honest. I can’t be the thing that stops you from getting what you want.”

Yamaguchi’s arms tighten around him, and he knew that Yamaguchi would have hidden this from him, would have let them continue like this. The thought made him sad, so sad. 

“Tell me, Tadashi,” he said. “Please... What do you really want?”

It was only a moment before he answered, but the drop of time caught Kei off guard. And then, Yamaguchi spoke.

“I want more,” Yamaguchi cried, and his fingers curled at Kei’s back. Kei had known, had expected nothing else, but he still felt helpless when faced with Yamaguchi’s decision. 

Kei could only hold him, and even though everything in him cried against it, he replied, “I want more for you too.”

“You helped me realize it,” Yamaguchi said, his voice soft against Kei’s shoulder.

“Ah,” Kei said, and he was glad Yamaguchi couldn’t see the tears in his eyes. “I had hoped it wasn’t me. But I’m proud of you, Tadashi. I really am.”

He brought a hand to Yamaguchi’s face, leveling it with his, and all the while Yamaguchi’s eyes searched his expression. He must have found what he was looking for, as a soft smile appeared on his face, the first honest one Kei had seen all night. 

“You really are,” Yamaguchi said, his voice full of wonder. 

“I’ll always be,” Kei promised, and he knew he could keep his promise this time. 

☆・・★

For all that he thought himself a coward, Yamaguchi Tadashi hated giving up. 

He startled awake to the silent glow of morning sun, and Tsukishima still asleep by his side. Tadashi ran a hand down his face and rolled out of the bed, padding for the kitchen where he could get some water. Tsukishima’s apartment was still unfamiliar, and he had to open a few cabinets as quietly as he could before he found a mug. 

He smiled as he read the one he pulled down, a little dinosaur clutching a sign that said _Tea-Rex_. 

“ _Tsukki_ ,” he clucked in a whisper, the smile tugging at his cheeks. It almost felt uncomfortable, given how much he _didn’t_ feel like smiling. 

He filled the mug with water from the sink and padded over to the couch, snagging his guitar on the way. He unzipped it from its case and stared at it, contemplating the night before. 

He knew now that he wanted to be with Kogarasu, as much as he wanted to be with Tsukishima. He hadn’t even realized how strongly he felt about this dream until he had let it go. 

Tadashi also knew that he would miss Tsukishima with each passing day that separated them. There was no way around it, though; Karasuno would not wait for Tadashi, and Tadashi could only hope that Tsukishima would wait for him. 

He picked his guitar up from the case, and moved his fingers against the neck, arranging them into a comfortable chord. 

Instead of strumming the strings, knowing that would wake Tsukishima, he played with arranging his fingers and tapping the chords out, the lowest possible hum of music that his carefully trained ear could still pick up. 

“ _Are you sleeping_?” He sang, the smile appearing unbidden on his face once more. He couldn’t help it; he was way too in love with Tsukishima. 

_“Still dreaming… still drifting off alone?_ ” _Alone_ , he thought, the new song playing out in his head. How many days would Tsukishima wake up without him, before they could be together again? How many nights would Tadashi go to bed alone?

“ _I_ _’m not leaving, with this feeling_ …” On instinct, he strummed his hand down, the chord crashing through the quiet apartment. 

“ _And how in the world did you come to be such a lazy love?”_

 _Love_. From the start, it had been the only word for what he felt for Tsukishima. He strummed another series of notes, closing his eyes as he felt his way to the chorus. 

“ _And how am I supposed to live without you_?” 

He startled, feeling a weight press in next to him on the couch. Tadashi turned and opened his eyes, Tsukishima settled comfortably beside him, eyes smudged darkly with sleep but a careful expression on his face, the ghost of a smile. 

Tadashi smiled back. “ _And how in the world did you come… to be such a lazy love_?”

His fingers slowed on the strings, as Tsukishima moved in to cup his hand to Tadashi’s warm cheek. Tadashi moved the guitar to the floor, leaning in closer. 

“ _And where did you go_?” He sang, feeling the huff of Tsukishima’s breath against his lips. They fell against each other easily, Tsukishima’s hand moving to cradle Tadashi’s neck, his thumb stroking his jawline as Tadashi pulled back. 

“You weren’t there when I woke up,” Tsukishima said, his voice soft. 

“I’m sorry,” Tadashi said, and he meant it for a lot of things. But Tsukishima didn’t look upset, and he tilted his shoulder into a shrug. 

“I’m glad you’re still here. You said last night that you would call Yachi in the morning… start to pack up…”

Tadashi nodded. He had been trying to tell Tsukishima that he would need to start pulling back a little, to make their separation less painful. 

He still remembered Hitoka packing her things away in boxes, the pain of watching her cut their bond like that. He didn’t want to put Tsukishima through the same thing.

“I can probably get most of it done on my own,” he started. “I’ll just have to drive back up from Tokyo when I’m more settled… to get the rest.”

Tsukishima was quiet, and Tadashi realized with a start that he was not _going_ to offer his help. It was good, it was what he wanted; but it still hurt to realize that they were already starting to go their separate ways. Tadashi turned his head to look at the door.

“Actually,” Tsukishima said suddenly, and Tadashi glanced back up to meet his eyes. “I’m probably going to be able to get an interview soon, down in Tokyo. We can... I can help you move, if you want…”

Tadashi changed his mind, _immediately._ “Yes!” He cried, throwing his arms around Tsukishima again. “Tsukki, that would be wonderful!” 

He could feel Tsukishima’s chuckle from where he was pressed up against him, and it warmed his heart. 

“Tadashi,” Tsukishima continued, his voice low and strong. “I feel like I need to make something very, very clear. I am in this for good. I’m not going to let this fall apart, not unless you really decide that you’re done with this. I’m going to get to Tokyo.”

For all that Tadashi thought himself a coward, he was glad that Tsukishima didn’t see him that way. And he knew, _he knew_ , he wasn’t going to give up on this either. “I know, Tsukki,” he said. 

Their lips met again, and Tadashi felt the glow of their connection. Tsukki would find him, wherever he went. The separation wouldn’t last long, and even if it did, it wouldn’t be forever. Neither of them would let it get to that point. 

“Tsukki,” he said, the name catching in his throat. “I love you.”

Tsukishima fell forward, so suddenly that Tadashi flailed his arms to catch him, but Tsukishima just buried his head in Tadashi’s chest. “Tsukki?” Tadashi asked, bringing his palm to lay against the base of Tsukishima’s neck. 

“Fuck, Tadashi,” Tsukishima said, so muffled Tadashi almost could’t make out the words. Then, Tsukishima shook his head, nuzzling deeper into Tadashi’s shirt, before he sat up straight and met Tadashi’s eyes confidently. 

“I love you, too.” 

Tadashi couldn’t help himself. He burst out into laughter. Tsukishima looked terribly offended, and reached out a hand to pinch Tadashi’s arm. Tadashi fended him off, still breathless with laughter. 

“I _know_ , Tsukki,” he said finally, threading his arms around Tsukishima’s neck and pressing a kiss to his waiting lips. “Thank you.” 

Tsukishima studied him, as though trying to determine what to say to that. Tadashi only watched as his eyes flashed with gold, familiar and filled with the emotion Tadashi had finally named, and knew that nothing more had to be said. 

★・・☆

Yamaguchi was laughing brightly, sunshine smile on his face as he talked into the phone at Yachi. 

_Too brightly_ , Kei thought darkly, _given the occasion._

He tapped his foot against the tiles of the station, checking the time again. He lowered his wrist at the same time Yamaguchi hung the phone up, turning his warmth and affection towards Kei. 

“What did she say?” Kei asked, trying his best to sound sunny and knowing he was failing miserably. 

“We have recording time in the studio tomorrow! I guess it’s the first time they’re going in, so I haven’t missed much. I’ll just have to sign some contracts when we go in, which is what the others have been doing all week.”

The train blew into the station, doors rolling open and flood of passengers stepping out. Kei reached a hand out for Yamaguchi’s arm, pulling him closer. Yamaguchi smiled gratefully at him. 

“Contracts,” he said suddenly, shaking his head. “It sounds surreal. I never would have thought…” 

His smile faltered, then, and Kei quickly realized that this was so much worse. “I never thought it would be like this.”

“I know,” Kei said, squeezing Yamaguchi’s arm reassuringly. The smile flickered back, like a candle’s flame gaining strength, and they stepped onto the train together. 

The ride passed quickly, although Kei wished with his whole heart that time would slow, especially once Yamaguchi’s head drifted onto his shoulder, his breath light and easy as he closed his eyes. Kei held Yamaguchi’s hand fast in his, aching for some semblance of peace that would let him rest, as well. 

It would only be a matter of weeks, Kei promised himself, if this interview went well. And then he could find his way back to Yamaguchi. 

The train rumbled into the station and Yamaguchi woke with a start, a soft gasp as he looked at Kei, eyes wide with surprise. 

“We’re here?” He asked, and Kei nodded solemnly, releasing Yamaguchi’s hand to gather their bags. 

Yamaguchi had packed lightly, with plans to rent a van and drive back to Sendai for the rest of his belongings by the end of the week. Kei was already looking forward to the opportunity to see him, the first stretch of their long distance relationship completed. 

Yamaguchi reached out for his share of the bags, but Kei kept them all despite his protests, disembarking from the train before finally handing them over. 

“Tadashi!” A voice shouted loudly, from beyond the partition. “Tsukishima!”

They turned to see Yachi Hitoka, waving her arms wildly and calling their names. 

“She did _not_ tell me she was coming,” Yamaguchi frowned, searching Kei’s face. Kei shrugged.

“It’s nice,” he said, and he was glad that she had come for Yamaguchi, as they would have to part ways sooner rather than later so he could get to his interview. They shuffled over to the station’s exit, Yachi throwing her arms around Tadashi first and then, to his surprise, Kei. 

“Take care of him, please,” Kei said quietly, close enough so that only she could hear. She tightened her grasp around his neck and he felt her nod against his shoulder. 

“Hey,” Yamaguchi squeaked, tugging at Kei’s arm. “You’re making me jealous!”

Kei chuckled at that, but pulled away— and then pulled Yamaguchi close, feeling his arms tighten around Kei’s back and clutch at the fabric of his jacket. 

“I’m not going to say ‘Good luck,’” Yamaguchi said, before pressing a soft kiss to the edge of Kei’s mouth. Kei turned and caught his lips, deepening the kiss for one moment before they broke away, remembering they were in public. 

“Good,” Kei said, squeezing Yamaguchi’s hand before releasing it. “Because I’m not going to say ‘Goodbye.’”

Yachi chuckled at that, looping her arm through Yamaguchi’s and pulling him away. Kei had already decided that he liked her, so he tried not to hate her too much for that. Yamaguchi waved at him, face soft and gentle in the light of the sun, freckles a familiar pattern that Kei hadn’t quite memorized yet. 

He would get it one day, though. 

“Bye, Tsukki!” Yamaguchi called, as though he couldn’t help himself. Kei dragged a finger across his lips, locking them and throwing away the key. Even as Yamaguchi turned, Kei could hear his laughter echoing across the platform. 

Kei waited, and watched him go. Yamaguchi didn’t look back, but Kei forgave him for that. 

He believed Yamaguchi knew that Kei was already waiting in his future. 

Furoggusu Magazine didn’t look quite as juvenile as its name would suggest, located in a nice block of offices in downtown Setagaya—not too far from the Shimokita neighborhood Kogarasu performed in. The waiting room felt comfortable, and Kei sank into a deep leather couch and studied the previous issues that littered the table nearby. He flipped through one of them, wondering if one day he would turn a page to see Kuroo’s face, Bokuto’s face, Akiteru… or Tadashi. 

He smiled at the memory of each of them, realizing that they were all waiting for him here. Surprisingly, he didn’t feel shaken by the pressure, but rather supported. He knew that when he finally came down here, he could accept help from any one of them, without any fear of judgement. Akaashi would open his doors, and they could suffer through Bokuto together. Kuroo and Kozume, too, were an option. 

He realized with a start that he could probably even move in with Akiteru, who had offered up his place the moment they reconnected.

And then, of course, there was also Yamaguchi… _always_ Yamaguchi. Yamaguchi was waiting for him, and Kei was going to do everything in his power for them to be together.

“Tsukishima Kei?” A voice rang through his thoughts, sharp and clear, and he turned to the door that had just opened. 

A man was standing there, his smile kind, and he held out an arm in a welcoming gesture.

“We’re ready whenever you are.”

☆・・★

“It’s like coming home,” Hitoka sighed, and Tadashi laughed in agreement as they watched Hinata and Kageyama vault themselves onto the stage. They had been stuck in the studio these past few weeks, working on an EP, which thrilled Tadashi each time he thought about it. It had kept them away from live performances, though, so this was the first time they were able to get on stage and perform together in front of a crowd— especially one so large. 

“I don’t disagree,” he said, adjusting the strap of his guitar. A thin stream of people was continuing to filter through the open doors, and he stepped onto the stage with Hitoka to begin warming up. 

“What do you want to start with, Yamaguchi?” Hinata’s voice called from his drum kit, before he released a volley of hits on his snare. Kageyama barked at him to “ _Shut up so I can tune, idiot!_ ”

Hinata stuck a tongue out at Kageyama before turning back to Tadashi. 

“I don’t know,” he said honestly. He turned his attention back to the growing crowd of people and latched onto the blind hope in his chest. “Let’s start with ‘Gold.’”

“Good idea,” Hitoka said with a smile. 

The house lights dimmed around them, and they finished tuning quickly as the darkness enveloped them. Then, the spotlights blinked on, and they were illuminated. 

Tadashi felt the electric glow sink into his skin, and smiled at its warmth. 

“Thanks for coming out tonight, everyone,” Hitoka said, Tadashi making one final adjustment to his mic stand. 

“We’re Kogarasu!” He shouted in time with his band, lifting his voice proudly. 

Hinata and Kageyama jumped in with perfect timing, while Tadashi started a note behind. He didn’t let it faze him, however, knowing that the sound of his mistake was tuned out by the steady rhythm of bass and drums. 

“ _And I love him so_ ,” Hitoka crooned into the mic. “ _I_ _wouldn’t trade him for gold…_ ”

Tadashi beamed at the sound of his lyrics in her soft and beautiful voice. He strummed quickly to catch up with the rhythm, scanning over the crowd with a dark gaze as he jumped in to join her on vocals. 

“ _And I’m gonna be me_ ,” his voice carried easily into the open space before him. “ _I’m gonna be free…_ ”

Hitoka glanced over at him, her eyebrow raised. _“I’m walking on moonbeams…_ ”

He watched her tilt her head, and he followed her gaze to the opposite side of the stage. A tall man, blond head bobbing above the crowd, was pushing his way through to Tadashi’s side. 

“ _And staring out to sea…_ ” Tadashi’s heart rate rose in a flash, Hinata’s drum beat finishing off the chorus and giving them a moment to pause. The man had found his way to Tadashi, and stood before him now, his smile cool and kind. 

“ _And if a door is closed… then a road for home start building._ ”

Tadashi returned the smile, his fingers light around the chords, his voice joining Hitoka’s once more. _Kei_ , he thought, eyes searching the other man’s face. _This is what I love. Can’t you see? Don’t you think it was worth it?_

“ _And you’d better be you and do what you can do..."_

He saw Kei’s eyes widen, that familiar emotion sharp and golden where he met Tadashi’s gaze. And then, he watched Kei raise up his hand, and his attention caught the object held there. His heart jumped to his throat and his finger slipped on a note when he realized what it was.

 _Yes_ , Kei seemed to be saying, holding the audio recorder high. _It was worth it._

“ _And you’re walking on moonbeams_ …”

The crowd pushed up as they finished the song, rounding out the final note with their cheers. Tadashi watched Kei’s face light up as he clapped for them. 

Tadashi heaved a deep breath, and tilted his head back for a brief moment, full of gratitude and love, before they launched into their next song, and their next, and their final.

Hitoka grabbed his guitar from him the moment they slipped off the stage. 

“Go,” she said, her voice high with laughter, and he mouthed a happy, _Thank you!_

Tadashi headed for the side doors, planning to swing around to the front and search for Kei in the crush of concert-goers leaving for the night.

Kei was not lost to the crowd, though. He was waiting outside the side doors, turning with a smile on his face as Tadashi exited the venue and quickly stuttered to a stop. 

“Hi, Tadashi,” he said, and although night had fallen, Tokyo was so bright that he could still see the clever twist of Kei’s mouth, the angle of his jaw, the golden iris of his eye. Tadashi thought he was beautiful, _so_ beautiful. 

“Hi, Tsukki,” he said, and then Kei was stepping closer, and bringing a hand to his cheek, thumb stroking over the smattering of freckles there. Tadashi blushed as Kei pushed closer, his lips a breath away as he whispered, “ _Tadashi_.”

Tadashi wondered, in that moment, if Kei thought he was beautiful too. And then, Kei’s lips were against his, and he forgot that he had any thoughts at all. 

As Tadashi slid a hand to rest on Kei’s stomach, he knocked against the recorder in his jacket pocket. Smiling against Kei’s kiss, he pulled it out and held it up with a smirk. 

“So?” He asked, laughing as Kei rolled his eyes. “Do we get a good review?”

“Not a critic,” Kei responded, pressing his forehead against Tadashi’s and taking the recorder back. “But once I get my _interview_ with Kogarasu, I’m sure I can get you some new fans.”

Tadashi’s heart warmed at the words. He smiled. “And are you one of them?”

“Well, I’ve always been your fan,” Kei said, angling his head coyly, daring Tadashi to come closer. 

In response, Tadashi curled his hands tight around the lapels of Kei’s jacket. “Good. Because I happen to be a fan of you.”

“Tadashi,” Kei breathed out his name, a sigh that was light against his lips. 

“Sorry, _Tsukki_ ,” Tadashi scolded with a click of his tongue. “That’s just the way it is. You’re stuck with me now.”

“Good,” Kei’s voice was so soft, but Tadashi had always had a good ear. He pressed in and felt Kei’s soft lips part against his.

The lights of the venue shut off from the inside, leaving them illuminated only by the streetlight, the soft glow of the city, and the stars above.


End file.
